


The Lift

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [19]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, M/M, Original Character(s), Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Invitationals finally arrives!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

Shelby smiles at Beth, asleep in her crib, and walks into the study. She’s been incredibly lucky to shift her work to teaching at home two days a week this school year, leaving her free to keep Beth at home with her during the mornings until the babysitter arrives with the school bus and the first of Shelby’s afternoon lessons.

She sits down at the computer and quickly returns to the email that she’d begun typing the night before, ignoring the messages in her inbox. She has a strong desire to ignore the email for a little longer, to go to Facebook or her adoptive single mothers’ board. She knows that it’s time to finish the email, attach the pictures, and send it on.

There are several other women that she’s met, both in Columbus and online, who agreed to an open adoption. Some of them even made the arrangement with teenage parents, who live seemingly close. Of all of them, though, few have contact with the biological father in addition to the birth mother; Shelby is the only one who has contact solely with the biological father.

Noah Puckerman. His strained face and pleading eyes as he haltingly explained that he’d gone home and looked up open adoption on Wikipedia, of all things; the grateful way he’d accepted her hastily-conceived terms; the polite emails that demand nothing and always thank her profusely for the photographs. She knows little about him, other than what he tells her; she knows he’s a part of New Directions, that he has a younger sister, that he still desperately wants contact with Beth.

Sometimes Shelby regrets telling him that he couldn’t see Beth until after he graduated high school, but apart from those fits of sentimentality, she knows it was the correct decision. Noah was only a sophomore in high school when Beth was born, and far better for him to strive towards that goal than to have seen her and promptly lost interest in four or six or ten months.

She selects the photos to include, all from the trip they took to the studio inside Meijer, and then at the last minute, includes one she took herself, just two days before in the backyard. Something about Beth’s face reminds her of what she remembers of Noah. It’s strange, but she doesn’t see much of Quinn in Beth, most days. She wonders if Quinn will ever come looking, wanting to know Beth; unless Quinn does it soon, Noah will have a far closer relationship with Beth than Quinn ever will.

Maybe she should ask Noah for a picture of himself, in February or so. It would be good for Beth to see his picture before she actually meets him. Shelby sighs, skims the email a final time, and hits send.

 

Trey deliberately watches Blaine’s face during New Directions’ number, and when the opposite-sex couples break apart and Kurt spins into Puck’s arms, Trey can see pain pinch at the corner’s of Blaine’s eyes. Trey knows Blaine will never express that pain; he’s far too dignified and stoic to complain.

The Warblers aren’t really a dancing choir, and even if they were, they wouldn’t do that kind of dancing. It’s too in your face. It’s controversial for the sole purpose of being controversial. Admittedly, the choreography is excellent, and the dancers seem very comfortable together, even though Trey doesn’t think any of them but Kurt and (ostensibly) Puck are gay. Still, something about it puts Trey off, though that might be how obviously disturbed Blaine appears.

Trey alternates between watching Kurt dance with Puck and watching Blaine’s face, so he almost misses what’s happening on the stage. Blaine’s face freezes for a second, then his mouth drops open and his eyes widen. Trey quickly glances at the stage, where he sees Puck holding Kurt up in an impressive lift. There’s a frenzy of applause around them, excited whispering amongst the rest of the Warblers, but Blaine looks like he’s been punched in the stomach.

That’s when Trey realizes that, up to that moment, Blaine might have been entertaining fantasies of getting back together with Kurt. Seeing that lift and knowing what kind of practice and, more importantly, trust it takes to make that happen must be the death knell for those hopes. Trey wonders what Blaine will do now.


	2. Episode 3x04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [playlist for this episode](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL15106E3E18AF07E4)

Puck yawns his way through Monday morning at work, too, the promise of seeing Kurt for a few minutes keeping him going. That, and eating one of the remaining cinnamon buns, ‘cause he had three left, and he figures they should have one for Mr. Schue, after all, which means he and Kurt can eat the remaining two.

His manager takes pity on him and sends him to change a little early, so he’s sitting outside already nursing his coffee when Kurt pulls up and gets out. “Done early?”

“I think she felt sorry for me.” Puck yawns again. “Breakfast?” He pushes the container towards Kurt.

“Oh, yes.” Kurt grabs one out of the box and takes a bite. “Finn ate _five_ of the ones I took home. Five!”

“Good grief,” Puck snorts. “Did you hide the other twelve from him?”

“He didn’t realize I had them until I got home last night. Then I threatened him. I think. I was falling asleep by that point.”

“I hear you.” Puck stands reluctantly and they head towards school. “I wish we could take a nap instead of dual enrollment.”

“Yes. Definitely.” Kurt trails his fingers down Puck’s forearm. “I’m starting to feel like we’re on a treadmill.”

“That’s going faster than we want it to.”

“Exactly.” Kurt parks and stops the engine but doesn’t move. “Here we go again.”

Puck lets out a little chuckle. “Something like that.” They climb out and head towards the school, and despite the backpack and his extra clothes, Puck still has to shove his hands deep into his pockets and sigh heavily.

 

Puck’s already in the choir room at the beginning of fourth when Kurt comes in with the cinnamon buns. Finn bolts from his seat at the sight and Kurt puts his hand up. “Stop, Finn. You already had _five_ of them.”

Finn looks injured but sits back down.

“What are they?” Rachel pipes up.

“Cinnamon buns from Ikea.” Kurt smiles brightly. “One for everyone. _One_ ,” he stresses again, looking at Finn, and Puck presses his lips together, trying not to laugh.

“Ooh, you went to Ikea? When? Why?” Rachel springs up and latches onto Kurt’s arm. “Were you looking at things for the city?”

“This weekend, and yes. Have you honestly looked at the size of the affordable apartments?” Kurt raises his eyebrow and waits for Rachel to nod her agreement. “We–I’m thinking lofting the bed, for starters.” Kurt’s eyes widen a little at his almost slip, and Puck grabs one of the buns and takes a bite before he can think too much or accidentally say too much.

“Oh, definitely,” Rachel nods, and takes a bun of her own. “What a great idea to start looking now, though, it’ll make budgeting so much easier!” She propels Kurt into a seat as the rest of the club comes in and grabs a bun, sitting down and chattering. “Are you thinking about splitting the cost with a roommate? I’d offer but if I get into Juilliard, I’m required to live in the dorms.”

 _Oh fuck_ runs through Puck’s brain at Rachel’s question. How in the hell is Kurt going to manage that question? If he says no, then she’ll be aghast at the cost of rent; if he says yes, she’ll want to know how he’s going to find a roommate.

“Oh, I think the cost of living in New York City almost requires sharing one’s space with someone, don’t you?” Kurt quirks an eyebrow, but he looks a little pale, and Puck’s never been quite so glad for Mr. Schuester to walk into the room and start the meeting.

 

When their dual enrollment classes are over, Kurt drives towards Puck’s apartment by unspoken agreement, and they collapse onto Puck’s bed.

“We should do our work.”

“Or sleep.”

“Or sleep.”

Neither one of them moves, and Puck leaves his arms wrapped around Kurt. He barely notices that Kurt’s breathing seems deeper before he lets his own eyes drift closed.

“Noah. Noah,” is the next thing Puck hears, and he scrunches up his face unhappily before cracking his eyes open. His mom is standing beside the bed, and Kurt’s still asleep, his face buried against Puck.

“Mom,” Puck whispers with a nod. “What time is it?”

“Just past five,” she answers, equally quietly. Kurt starts to stretch and makes a funny little noise, and it hits Puck that he’s never watched Kurt wake up before. He tightens his arms around Kurt a little more.

“Okay.” He yawns a little. “I guess we needed sleep more than we needed to do homework.” He sighs, because he knows they both have a lot of work to do.

“Don’t worry about helping with dinner tonight,” Rina answers after a moment. “I’ll order pizza or run get some burgers this once. That way you’ll have a little longer to work.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Puck replies gratefully, and his sentiments are echoed a minute later.

“Thanks, Rina,” comes the muffled reply as Kurt’s body slowly uncurls.

“I’ll call you when dinner’s here,” she says with a smile, and exits.

Kurt pushes himself up, echoing Puck’s earlier yawn. “I guess we chose sleep.” He grimaces. “I feel better, except for the looming list of assignments.”

“Yeah.” Puck echoes his grimace. “What’s the quickest assignment you’ve got?”

“One chapter for musical theatre. You?”

“Gotta read a pdf my prof for musical styles was emailing us, he said it was only two or three pages.”

“You realize neither of these are due tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but I have practice again tomorrow, and you have to work, and tomorrow’s Tuesday.”

“True.” Kurt reaches for his bag and pulls out a book, and Puck waits for his email to download.

“Oh.” Puck can’t help the soft exclamation as he scans his email, the name there in black and white: _Shelby Corcoran_. With the symbol indicating a file or files attached. Pictures.

“You okay?” Kurt looks up from his chapter, his legs tucked up under him, and Puck can’t help but smile a little.

“Yeah, just... come here.” Puck holds his hand out while Kurt looks at him quizzically and rises slowly. “You, uh, want to see some pictures?”

“Pictures?” Kurt’s fingers curl around Puck’s, and he lets Puck tug him close.

“Yeah, uh.” Puck clicks on the email and scrolls down past whatever Shelby’s written; he always reads that after he looks at the pictures. He stops when he gets to the first one and bites his lip.

“Ohh.” Kurt’s voice is soft, and he squeezes Puck’s hand. “Oh, baby, she’s beautiful.”

And Beth _is_ , grinning at the camera in what’s obviously a professional photograph. Her hair is pulled into two tiny pigtails peeking out from behind cat ears, and she’s dressed in a black cat outfit. Shelby’s drawn two careful whiskers on each cheek, with a dot of black on the tip of Beth’s nose, and the bottom of the picture proclaims “Happy Halloween!”

“She is, isn’t she?” Puck says softly, and slowly scrolls through the other pictures. All but one are clearly from the same professional session, the last one a casual snapshot, clearly taken in the backyard or a park, Beth running into a tiny pile of leaves with an expression of fierce joy.

“That one’s my favorite,” Kurt says immediately.

“Yeah?” Puck creases his forehead a little. “Really? Why?”

“Don’t you see it?” Kurt’s voice is warm. “She looks just like you. That facial expression, right there.”

Puck blinks, because no, he hadn’t seen it, but now that Kurt’s pointing it out, he supposes he gets it. “I guess so,” he says finally, his voice a little shaky. Kurt slides his arm around Puck’s shoulders and squeezes them.

Puck bites his lip and just stares at the screen, Kurt’s weight warm and reassuring. He doesn’t know if Quinn’s pretending like Beth _doesn’t exist_ is Quinn’s way of coping, and maybe he’s being unfair; maybe it is. But he doesn’t understand how she could not want this, not want to see that Beth is growing and happy and _loved_. It makes his heart ache to look at her, but it makes his soul ache to think of not seeing her pictures. Not eventually seeing _her_.

Puck’s not sure how long they stand there before he hears his mom call out “Noah! Kurt! Dinner!” Kurt kisses his cheek softly and straightens as Puck closes the email and stands. He grabs Kurt’s hand and interlaces their fingers before heading towards the door to the dining room, taking a deep breath as he crosses into the living room.

“Everything all right?” Rina asks with a smile as they sit down, and Puck nods automatically.

“Yeah, Mom.” Puck assures her, and when Kurt squeezes his hand, he realizes that yeah, it really is. It’s not perfect, it’s not ideal, but it’s all right, and maybe that’s good enough when it comes to that particular portion of his life.

 

Puck hefts the cardboard box he’d stowed in Ms. P’s office and walks towards the classroom where Kurt’s already setting up for PFLAG.

Kurt raises one eyebrow. “You brought props?”

“Show and tell, let’s say,” Puck snorts, and grabs a handful of the trail mix that’s sitting on the food table. “Rickenbacker’s supposed to show up. With Coach Beiste.”

“That will be...”

“Interesting? Or a clusterfuck. I haven’t decided which option to go with.”

Kurt laughs. “Do you ever wonder if some people are just here for the food?”

“Nah, they’re here for the food _and_ my beautiful face.”

“Oh, I know that’s why I turned up.” Kurt grins and holds Puck’s gaze for a moment before turning away when the bell rings. “Time to play moderator.”

“Yeah, isn’t it supposed to be you _and_ Karofsky running this?”

“I think he’s afraid that if he says much, a big flashing rainbow sign is going to appear over his head.”

Puck snorts and shakes his head a little. “You think he’s told anyone?”

Kurt just shrugs. “He’s certainly less angry.”

“I gotta admit... I kinda worry about the dude. Playing football in college, I mean.”

“True.” Kurt frowns. “At least that asshole Friday night wasn’t looking at Karofsky. What a nightmare.”

“That asshole needed to be thrown out on his rear.”

“Which asshole?” Mike asks as he and Tina squeeze in the door, hand in hand.

“Oh, that guy on Friday night,” Puck explains, and they both nod.

“He was awful,” Tina nods. “I’m surprised they send someone like that to represent their school.”

“It takes all kinds,” Kurt says dryly.

Others begin to slowly come in, most of them taking a plate and filling it before sorting out the seating arrangements. Coach Beiste shows up and nods at Puck before glaring back out the door. A moment later, Rickenbacker shuffles through, looking a little freaked, too much of the white showing around his irises. When he sees Puck, he flinches involuntarily and doesn’t sit until Coach points forcefully at the chair next to her.

Puck has to suppress the urge to taunt him a little, just a feint or a curl of his fingers, but he eats more trail mix instead, and turns his gaze back to the doorway, where there is a bit of a commotion as four people try to shove through at once.

“Good to know we’re so popular,” Kurt says lightly, and Rachel rolls her eyes as she separates from the group.

Casey pops out from behind Rachel, and it’s a testament to how incredibly tiny the dude is that he was hidden _behind_ her. He gives Kurt an enthusiastic, if somewhat tremulous, smile before sitting in the chair two down from Kurt. Finn and Mr. Schue follow close behind, and Finn shoots a thumbs up to Casey, who gives him a tiny wave. Schue sits next to Beiste, looking relieved, and Finn flings himself into the chair next to Puck.

“Sup?” Puck figures it’s probably better not to stare at the door like some kind of reverse stalking situation, tempting though it is.

“Not much,” Finn says, reaching over and swiping trail mix off Puck’s plate. “Who brought this?”

“Ms. P, maybe?” Puck shrugs. “Not me. I’d get the kind with M&Ms in it.”

“This tastes weird,” Finn grumbles, crumbs of peanut flying everywhere. “I think it has carob chips or something.”

Puck groans. “Your girlfriend, dude.”

Finn shrugs. “I don’t even ask any more. I mean, I can eat anything if I _have_ to.” As if to prove a point, he crams another handful of Puck’s trail mix into his mouth. “This does kind of taste like ass.”

Puck just stares at him for a moment before breaking into loud laughter. His eyes squinch shut and he’s pretty sure everyone in the room is looking at him. By the time he glances to his side, Finn looks confused. Puck keeps laughing, though not as loudly.

“You are _so_ weird,” Finn says, shaking his head.

“Dude.” Puck drops his voice to a whisper. “We’re at a _PFLAG_ meeting and you just said _tastes like ass_.”

Finn cocks his head like a perplexed puppy. “What? I don’t get...oh. OH! DUDE!” He turns bright red and puts his hand over his mouth.

“And he gets it.” Puck smirks. “Let’s add that word to the list for you, a’right?” He claps Finn on the shoulder genially.

“Uncool,” Finn whispers, scrunching up his lips and glaring.

Before Puck can respond, Kurt’s clearing his throat and suggesting that they all begin introducing themselves. There are no surprises amongst the introductions until they get to Rickenbacker.

“Uh, I’m Daniel Rickenbacker, but uh, mostly everybody calls me Rick,” he mumbles, obviously not sure exactly what he’s supposed to say. “I’m here because, uh, because I want to learn more and um, not cause any more problems for the team.”

Beiste has her eyebrows raised during part of his introduction, and she nods sharply at the end. “I’m Coach Beiste. I’m here partially to keep an eye on Rickenbacker here, and also to support my students.”

They finally get around to Casey, who has spent most of the time since he noticed Rickenbacker looking at him with huge, terrified eyes. He cuts a glance to Kurt, then to Finn, and then, for some reason, to Puck. Puck smiles a little, and he notices Finn and Kurt doing the same. Casey looks back at Kurt one more time, takes a deep breath, and says in a voice that isn’t nearly as squeaky as the terrified look on his face would promise, “I’m Casey. And I’m _gay_. And that’s why I’m here.” He looks briefly, but boldly, over at Rickenbacker, like he expects him to say something.

Puck swivels his head towards Rickenbacker, too, eyebrows slightly raised with a bit of a glare.

“And like last time, everybody remember that what we talk about here is our business and doesn’t need to leave this classroom.” He looks directly at Rickenbacker. “You got it?” Rickenbacker just nods.

The last person to introduce himself is Karofsky, who seems less subdued than the past two meetings. “I’m David Karofsky, and I’m a senior.” He shrugs and doesn’t offer a reason for being there, similar to some of the others around the room.

“Before we continue, does anyone have any specific questions or stories? I’d like to make sure we aren’t neglecting anyone’s needs.” Kurt looks around the room expectantly. Rickenbacker raises his hand. Beiste looks at him expectantly, though there’s a bit of a warning in her gaze, too. Kurt nods for Rickenbacker to speak.

“Uh, so what is PFLAG exactly? Are all of you, you know?” He looks at Finn and Puck, over at Mike and Sam. “Gay?”

“PFLAG stands for parents, family, and friends of lesbians and gays. It’s an inclusive organization for those who are gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, otherwise queer, and their allies. Their straight allies.” Kurt looks like he’s torn between amusement and exasperation.

Rickenbacker raises his hand again. Kurt just nods again. “I thought that, um,” Rickenbacker lowers his voice to a near whisper for just the next word, “‘queer’ was one of the words we weren’t supposed to say.” He looks expectantly at Puck and Finn, as if to be sure he remembered the list correctly.

“Queer as a pejorative term, no, you shouldn’t. In this context, however, queer encompasses non-heteronormative identities and practices, including those who are asexual, genderqueer, or pansexual. There are also those who have reclaimed the term, similar to how _I_ shouldn’t call a woman a certain term–but she may choose to.” Kurt finishes his explanation and looks over at Rickenbacker. Rickenbacker looks even more confused, but doesn’t raise his hand again.

“In other words, dude,” Finn clarifies, “not all of us are gay, but we’re all here because we either know somebody who is or just want to be supportive in general.”

“And it’s probably better if you don’t use the term ‘queer,’” Rachel adds. “One of my dads will describe himself as queer, but my other dad hates the word. It’s a loaded term.”

Rickenbacker nods and shifts nervously in his seat.

“Any further questions?” Casey raises his hand, but not very high. “Yes, Casey?”

“How do you start telling people?” he asks quietly. “I mean, other than you guys in here. _Should_ I tell people? _Which_ people? How do I know?” He finishes all in a rush.

Puck sighs a little, because he really gets where the little dude is coming from. There’s a lot of shifting in seats, so much so that Puck wonders if he missed a few guesses on how many closeted kids were there.

“Everyone’s answer is different,” Kurt says carefully after a moment. “Let’s look at your last question first. You don’t know, not for sure, but who you tell should be a decision based partially on who you think will be supportive, but also based on who you think can keep your business private. Even if you want to come out to an entire school, you don’t want it to be because you told your best friend, and she or he couldn’t keep his or her mouth shut.”

“What if...what if you don’t think your parents will...” Casey trails off. “I mean, can you tell friends, but not your parents?”

“Absolutely,” Kurt nods. “Again, you want to make sure that your friends aren’t going to tell your parents. I can’t–I have an incredibly supportive father, and now the rest of my family. I don’t know what to tell you in that scenario, Casey. Was I scared to tell my father? Yes. But because I was afraid I had disappointed him, not because I anticipated a bad reaction.”

Puck is startled when Karofsky clears his throat. “There are websites. Like, with people to talk to, or just forums, or whatever. Some of them might help.”

There’s a stunned sort of silence in the room after Karofsky’s words, but Brittany fills it. “If your parents are mean, I bet your friends would help you. Or any of us.” She smiles. “You could come eat fondue with me. Even if you don’t want to be on video.”

Casey nods and smiles at Brittany. “I haven’t ever had fondue before.”

“Oh, it’s so good,” Brittany grins. “My favorite is the hot cheese.”

“Well, if there are no other questions...” Kurt scans the room and doesn’t seem to think there are any, “... I believe Puck had something he wanted to say.”

Puck straightens a little. “Yeah. Mostly to the teachers, actually. Dude,” he addresses Finn, “dig into that box, yeah?”

“Sure thing!” Finn reaches into the box and pulls out a large stack of color copies, pamphlets, and DVDs.

“So I spent about 30 minutes online and about twenty-five bucks,” Puck says, “and I got all this stuff. All of it’s geared towards educators, but whatever. The point is, I wouldn’t’ve spent that much if I could make copies here at the school. Like the teachers can.” He looks at Finn. “You see those stickers in there?”

“These?” Finn holds up a sheet of stickers with rainbow triangles on a blue background. He also unrolls two matching full-size posters.

“Well, that’s very thoughtful of you, Puck,” Schue begins, then looks at the posters. “What exactly are these?”

“Wasn’t really trying to be thoughtful. Just wondering why it was _me_ that knows about this stuff. Not any of you. No offense, but.” Puck shrugs, not addressing Schue’s question.

“So, this is stuff that any teacher could get?” Finn asks. “Is that something Ms Pillsbury should have gotten for PFLAG?”

“They didn’t exactly ask me for my teaching credentials, dude,” Puck snorts. “Any teacher can get it. Some of it’s free online.”

“Yeah, uh, there’s a lot of stuff online,” Karofsky speaks up again. “Is that the Trevor Project movie?”

Puck just nods his assent, still looking mainly at the three teachers present.

“What does it mean, exactly, by a ‘Safe Space,’” Beiste asks. “Is it like, a separate room or something? Because I think we all know that’s unlikely to happen with Principal Figgins.”

“No,” Kurt interjects. “It’s not about having a special room.”

“It’s just what it says, really,” Puck shrugs. “The idea is that educators make themselves visible as allies. That’s it.”

“So they just put it in their classrooms, right?” Finn asks. “And then kids will know that’s a safe space to go to talk to someone?”

“Right.”

“Or even just escape from everyone else,” Kurt adds quietly. “Sometimes you don’t need a space to talk, you just need a space to _be_.”

“Well, hand me one of those stickers, Hudson.”

Finn grins at Coach Beiste broadly before carefully tearing one of the stickers off the sheet. “You got it, Coach,” he says, and he hands it to her. He then turns to Mr. Schue expectantly.

Beiste does the same, raising her eyebrows in a way that Puck’s pretty sure is a challenge. He has to suppress a laugh, because, yeah. Beiste has got major _cojones_ , especially compared to Schue.

Schue makes a strange face and then nods at Finn. “Yeah, let me have one too, Finn.”

“You can put it on the glee bulletin board, Mr. Schue,” Finn suggests. “Since we’re all straight allies. Well, I mean, except the ones that aren’t straight.”

“Yeah, great idea,” Schue nods.

“Can I take one of the posters?” Ms. Pillsbury asks quietly. “And Noah, if you could give me the websites for these?”

“Sure,” Puck nods his acquiesce.

“We’ve got about ten minutes,” Kurt says. “Would... I think it’d be good for us to speak freely. Do the three of you want to leave or listen to us talk about the faculty and staff?”

“I’ll stay.” Beiste looks over at Rickenbacker for a moment.

“I think it could be an important discussion,” Ms. Pillsbury says after a moment, “and I wouldn’t want all of us being here to impede it. Will?”

“Sure,” Schue stands quickly. “I agree. We’ll let you all talk. Just... don’t repeat anything said here. We like our jobs,” he adds with a touch of a laugh. The students laugh, too.

As soon as the door closes behind Schue and Ms. Pillsbury, Kurt purses his lips. “So. An interesting point. Why did it have to be one of the students to point this out? What does it say about the faculty and staff here? Observations, opinions?”

“Well, it’s not like anyone intervened for you last year,” Sam points out. “Aside from Coach Sylvester, which–that’s just weird.” Most of the assembled students nod.

“What happened last year?” Casey pipes up. “Did something happen to you, Kurt?”

Kurt takes a deep breath and looks around the room before looking over at Karofsky. “Oh, this is awkward,” he mutters, before Karofsky clears his throat.

“I’ll do it.” Puck looks at him with some surprise, and wonders just _how_ honest Karofsky will be. Karofsky takes a deep breath. “Last year I was dealing with some personal issues that I’m not really ready to talk about yet. I’ve always been bigger than most of the other kids and it’s always been easy for me to make people do what I wanted. Well, what I wanted was for somebody to make me feel better.” He cuts his eyes over to Kurt. “I started turning Kurt into that person, but not in any kind of healthy way. I was bullying him. No, it was more than that. I was tormenting him. It was constant and it was physical.”

Karofsky stops for a minute and stares at his hands. He clenches them into fits and presses them against his knees. “It got to a point where I made Kurt feel so unsafe here that he left the school, moved to another school for a while. Santana is the one who talked me into looking at what I was doing to him. I watched a lot of those videos, like the ones we watched last time, and I realized what I had become. I apologized to Kurt and even though I didn’t really deserve it, he not only accepted my apology, but actually treated me more like a decent human being than pretty much anybody else at this school. We aren’t best friends or anything, but I definitely respect him. That’s, um. That’s about all, unless Kurt wants to add anything?”

Kurt’s face is pinched and Puck’s cursing the whole not coming out thing, because he thinks Kurt needs a hug pretty badly. Kurt just shakes his head. “No. Not really. Just. You don’t know what ‘safe’ means until you truly feel unsafe.” Puck kicks Finn’s ankle, ‘cause he can get away with going over to Kurt.

Finn gets the hint, luckily, and gets up and flings his arms around his brother in a sort of gangling bear hug. It’s kind of like watching a Great Dane devour a kitten, because Kurt is engulfed and makes a little mewl of protest. After a minute, Finn releases him, and Kurt tries to smooth down his clothes and hair, though the smile he gives Finn is warm and appreciative.

“But yeah,” Mike speaks up in the silence, “none of the teachers were really there for Kurt. I mean, we weren’t even really there,” he says, looking embarrassed, “until Rachel lectured us. No offense,” he adds quickly, looking at Rachel. “Because apparently we needed it.”

“Heck, I should have been the first one out there getting his back,” Finn says. “I didn’t do it, either. And why not? Because I was stupid and scared, too. That’s why this group is so important, because stupid and scared is just a, pardon my language Coach, but it’s a shitty excuse.”

“And less than a year later, he was attending Pride with me,” Kurt says with a grin. There’s a few incredulous looks and some laughter.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Finn answers, big crooked grin on his face. “It was awesome. All these floats with, like, guys in angels wings and rainbow wigs, just dancing like they didn’t even care what anybody thought about them. I mean, I don’t think I could pull off that look, but I wish I had that kind of confidence.”

“Also the drag queen,” Puck says with a smirk. “Don’t forget about the drag queen.”

“Dude, I keep telling you, she wasn’t a drag queen,” Finn splutters. Everyone laughs, and Finn just rolls his eyes. “She was just _tall_.”

“You two went to Pride? Without me?” Rachel looks put out. “That would have been such fun!”

“Some things can only be shared by brothers.”

“Next year?” she asks hopefully, switching her gaze between Kurt and Finn.

“Definitely,” Finn promises. “You can protect me from tall women.” He winks at Kurt.

“Ooh, lots of us should go!” Rachel adds. “Some of us will be graduates by then, of course, but wouldn’t that be a fun excursion!”

“Maybe if all you guys are going, I could go,” Casey says, looking very excited. “I don’t think I could go by myself. I mean, it’s not like they have Pride in Lima, so we’d have to go to Columbus or something, and that’s further than I’m allowed to go.”

“Exactly!” Rachel beams at him as the bell rings. “Oh, no, we didn’t really finish talking about the teachers.”

“I think we all got the general idea,” Puck says. “Or we can talk more about it next time.” He shrugs.

“Yes, today we learned valuable lessons, like how I did _not_ meet a drag queen at the Pride parade,” Finn grins. “Also, look for those stickers. Hopefully you’ll see them popping up in more classrooms.”

Kurt nods, and everyone stands up, most of them headed for the door since the bell’s already rung. Puck busies himself with putting the chairs away and then heads over to the food table to get more to eat, since carob-y trail mix isn’t his idea of a good lunch. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rickenbacker walk up to Finn.

“Um, hey Hudson?” Rickenbacker says.

“Yeah?” Finn answers, somewhat tersely.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, man. About all that stuff. I swear, it ain’t gonna happen again.” He scuffs his shoe on the floor. “I mean, you know how it can get with those guys. It’s all, like, stupid and scared like you said.”

Finn grumbles something that Puck can’t hear, but it appears to be some kind of acceptance of Rickenbacker’s apology, because Rickenbacker nods and Finn nods, and then Rickenbacker leaves the room with Coach Beiste.

Karofsky clears out fast this week, and the bell for the beginning of fifth period sends everyone else scattering. Puck walks over to Kurt and wraps his arms around him. “Thanks,” Kurt says quietly.

“For?” Puck furrows his forehead.

“Sending Finn over. All of that stuff you got. The point you made. Being amazing.”

“I just wanted to do this,” Puck confesses, “and I hated knowing I couldn’t. I hate feeling like coming out would be bad, but I feel like this is bad, too.”

“No good option,” Kurt muses sadly. “I know, baby.” Kurt steps back after a moment. “I need to go, unfortunately. You should go do your work, anyway.” He grabs Puck’s hand and squeezes it. “I’ll see you after practice?”

“Definitely.” Puck returns the squeeze. “Be good.” He shoulders his bag and starts out the door.

“I’m always good,” Kurt grins, and turns the other way.

 

Practice is interesting at best. Rickenbacker spends most of it trying to avoid all of the seniors, but since he’s just the kicker, it doesn’t work out too badly. Puck can tell he’s had a week of doing nothing, and Coach has him run three extra laps. Which, Puck gets it; hard to have a running back that’s not running full speed. Still, he’s exhausted by the time he gets into the locker room, and when he’s walking back from the showers, he’s a little unsettled when Brown calls out “Good to have you back, Puckerman!”

Puck just nods and half-smiles, but he realizes he’s also tightening his hold on his towel. He gets dressed quickly and walks out of the locker room, scanning the parking lot. For once, Kurt’s not waiting, so Puck ambles over to one of the benches nearby. He’s just sat down when Kurt pulls into the lot.

“Sorry, baby.”

“Nah, I just got done.”

“Dad had me working on the books again, I lost track of time. Or possibly fell asleep.” Kurt rolls his eyes a little. “How was practice?”

“Eh. I could tell I hadn’t practiced in over a week. And that Brown kid? Was all ‘good to have you back,’ which was just...”

“Weird,” Kurt finishes. “Maybe I need to have a talk with this Brown character.” He raises his eyebrow and looks fiercely possessive.

Puck grins a little. “Maybe so.”

“I thought we’d just go get some pizza or something and take it back with us.” Kurt sighs. “I feel like we’re drowning in schoolwork. And we really need to practice that lift a little more.”

“Yeah.” Puck nods. “Pizza sounds good.” He pulls out his phone and calls in the order. “Fifteen minutes.”

“We won’t have to wait long, though.”

“Nah.” The drive is short and Puck jumps out to grab their order, returning with a large pizza and some wings. “It was just finished,” he reports, and Kurt takes a deep breath.

“I am so hungry.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, I noticed you were driving faster.”

“Am I?” Kurt laughs for a second. “Oops.”

They make it to the kitchen table before opening the box and digging in, forgoing plates. “Finn out?”

Kurt shrugs. “Not sure. If he’s not, he’ll be here before we finish eating, at least.” He grins a little, even though he’s blushing a little too.

Puck smirks a little. “Yeah, that’s probably better,” he acknowledges. Before much longer passes, though, they hear the distinctive clomp of Finn entering the house. “And there he is,” Puck states unnecessarily.

“Indeed.” Kurt grabs one of the two remaining pieces and quickly takes a bite from it, gesturing for Puck to do the same with the other. Puck does, laughing.

“Oh, hey you guys,” Finn says, coming into the kitchen. “Heeyyy. You got pizza without me?” He looks completely despondent.

“Didn’t know you’d be here, dude,” Puck shrugs. “Wing?”

“There’s no pizza left at _all_?” Finn asks, taking a wing and morosely stripping the meat off the bone with his teeth, like a very, very sad piranha.

“We only bought one, Finn,” Kurt says calmly. “I thought you were eating with Rachel?”

“It’s her dads’ anniversary. Well, their anniversary is really on Thursday, but they always do this ‘familyversary’ dinner with Rachel every year. No boyfriends allowed.”

“That’s... sweet.” Kurt takes another bite and then looks between Puck and Finn appraisingly. “By the way, what was so funny earlier today?”

“Nothing,” Finn says, scowling at Puck. “Nothing at all.”

“ _You_ are the one that said it.”

“What? What did you say, Finn?”

“It wasn’t anything,” Finn grumbles. “Puck’s the one who made it all, all... _risky_.”

“Risque?” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “So what was it, if it was all Puck’s fault?” Puck rearranges his features quickly into his best innocent expression; not that either of them will fall for it.

“It was just a comment on the trail mix, is all,” Finn says. “It wasn’t anything.”

“He said it tasted like ass,” Puck can’t resist saying at last, grinning.

“I didn’t mean _actual_ ass! I mean, how would I know what that tastes like?”

Kurt almost chokes on his bite and he covers his face with his hands. “Good lord, Finn.” Puck can hear choked laughter coming out from behind Kurt’s hands, though. “What impeccable timing you have.”

“Not like Puck hasn’t said that a million times. _Before_ we knew he was gay,” Finn points out. “It’s just a thing people say. It’s not, like, commentary.” He glares at Puck.

“Like Kurt said, your timing,” Puck grins, unrepentant.

Finn just makes a face. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to your pizza, since I don’t feel like being the running joke today, thanks.”

“Dear brother, you will always be the running joke for me,” Kurt smiles brilliantly.

Finn snorts and stomps out of the kitchen and up to his room, loudly clomping up the stairs in a show of his displeasure.

“Poor Finn,” Kurt sighs.

“He’ll get over it,” Puck says dismissively. “He just wishes he had mounds of homework waiting for him. Or something.”

“Really.” Kurt shoves back from the table with a sigh. “Speaking of which, it would make sense if the two of you did your history assignment together. I get to write about Napoleon and his leadership qualities.”

“Ew?” Puck offers.

“It’s not too bad, I suppose.” Kurt shrugs and steps into the hallway and yells up the stairs. “Finn! You two should work on history.” When there’s no response, Kurt sighs a little. “I’ll be right back.”

“‘Kay.” Puck nods. “I’m gonna get started.” He tilts his head towards his backpack, and Kurt nods before heading up the stairs.

 

Kurt pads up the stairs, torn between rolling his eyes and feeling bad. He and Finn step on each other’s toes all the time, but sometimes he feels like Finn’s as moody as he is. No one else would say that, though, so it’s probably all Kurt.

He sighs and raps on Finn’s door. “Finn?”

“What?” Finn barks.

“May I come in? Please?”

“Fine.”

Kurt winces and pushes the door open. “Hey,” he says softly.

“I don’t want to work on history with Puck. I heard you the first time you asked,” Finn says, his tone terse.

“Okay,” Kurt replies, tone still quiet. “I–We didn’t mean to upset you.”

“So you noticed?” Finn narrows his eyes and jabs fiercely at his bed spread. “Wasn’t sure you two could really see anything outside your bubble.”

Kurt winces again. “I–Yes, we noticed.” He sighs.

“Look, I know I’m not as smart as you, ok?” Finn says, shaking his head. “And I’m not going to exciting places and I don’t know all the special terms and exactly what to say all the time. I get that. But I’m _trying_. I cover for you guys when you need me to, and I don’t share any of your secrets, not even with Rachel who tells me _everything_ , and I try to do the right thing and be supportive and go to the meetings and--” He sighs, deeply, and throws himself back on the bed, arms crossed across his stomach. “And I feel like any time I do or say anything that isn’t exactly right, you two laugh at me. You laugh at me because I don’t know all that stuff.”

Kurt sits down on the edge of Finn’s desk chair, a little gingerly, frowning as he digests everything Finn’s said. “I think–we laugh, Finn, because we... I know I, at least, get a little... You _are_ supportive and you _do_ cover for us, and I tend to let my guard down around you. Completely.” Kurt purses his lips. “I don’t laugh that often, Finn, and I am genuinely sorry if you feel that I’m laughing _at you_.”

“Every time you tell that drag queen story or Puck makes that ‘do you realize what you just said?’ face, I feel like you guys are part of this club that I can’t belong to and that you have all this secret code, and I just feel stupid.” Finn’s mouth twitches to the side a little, like he’s making himself hold something in. The skin around his eyes is tight.

“Oh.” Kurt sighs. “I just think the drag queen story is kind of adorable, Finn. I didn’t realize it made you upset.”

“It was funny once. Maybe twice,” Finn says, his voice heavy. “But when you keep telling it, it feels like ‘oh haha, let’s laugh at the dopey straight guy, isn’t he stupid.’ It’s not like I don’t _try_ to do everything right, Kurt, but I feel like I don’t get credit for doing any better than I was doing a year ago, and I _know_ I must be!” He sniffs loudly, but continues to hold his face perfectly still.

Kurt tilts his head back and forth, thinking. “All right. I can see where I might... tend to take you for granted. And making you feel stupid was never my intention.” He pauses. “We could have taken a lot of paths, Finn. We didn’t have to do anything but co-exist for a year and a half.” He stops. “Look at me, Finn.” He stares at Finn, waiting for him to do so. Finn doesn’t look at him, just scrunches his mouth together even more tightly and squints his eyes. “Fine.” Kurt moves so that he’s in Finn’s line of sight. “And yet. You’re my _brother_. Yes, I tease you, and you tease me, and sometimes we get pissed at each other, but do you honestly think we would be here now if I didn’t give you any credit, if I didn’t...” Kurt’s voice cracks a little. “I love you, brother.”

Finn sniffles a little and his eyes water, but only a little bit. Certainly not enough that Kurt notices. “I love you too, asshole.” The sour look on his face cracks a little, and his mouth twitches again, but this time not into a frown.

“You’re a good guy, Finn Hudson. Don’t let yourself forget that. Even if your brother is an asshole.”

“If I hug you, is it gonna be something you make fun of me for,” Finn asks cautiously, “‘cause seriously, I’ll just send you back downstairs if that’s gonna happen.”

“You’d have to throw me out,” Kurt says seriously, but then opens his arms slightly.

“I could do that, you know,” Finn says, as he engulfs Kurt in a bear hug. “I’m three times your size, dude. But thanks. For, you know, coming up and, well...yeah.”

“One and a half,” Kurt insists. “And you’re welcome.”

“At least two,” Finn says, patting Kurt on the back one last time before letting go of him. “Now go on back downstairs to Puck, before he comes looking for you and I have to start this over from scratch.”

“Okay, okay.” Kurt stands up. “Um, do me a favor?” He looks off to the side, a little embarrassed by what he’s about say. “Maybe?”

“May as well ask,” Finn says. “What, are we gonna have an uncomfortable moment or something?” He laughs a little.

“Life is a series of uncomfortable moments,” Kurt counters with a wry smile. “No, just uh. Could you keep an eye on that Brown guy?”

“87? Sure. What’s up? He giving you guys shit?”

Kurt’s eyes narrow a little and he shakes his head. “No. I think he’s checking Puck out.” He frowns as he speaks.

“Seriously? Never would have guessed it. Yeah, I’ll watch him,” Finn nods.

Kurt just shrugs. “Maybe we’re wrong. Just a few odd things.” He flashes Finn a small smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

 

Puck looks up as Kurt comes quietly back down the stairs and into the kitchen, his eyebrows raised inquiringly.

“He feels like we laugh at him all the time.” Kurt shrugs a little and sits down next to Puck, sliding the chair to the side so that he’s pressed against Puck’s side. “He said something about our bubble.” He frowns a little. “Are we really that...?” he trails off, as if he doesn’t know the word, which is unusual for Kurt.

Puck frowns, too, thinking. “I guess we have been kinda isolating ourselves.” He wraps an arm around Kurt’s shoulders. “I don’t know, blue eyes. I guess in some rational world we should’ve stayed in Lima on Saturday and done homework and maybe called up some other people hang out, and all of that. But I also know we _needed_ a break. And right now we both have a lot of work to do and we’re barely keeping up.” Puck sighs. “We’re just stuck, K.”

“No one tells Mercedes that she and Sam are in a bubble,” Kurt says bitterly. “It’s always, no, boo, I’ve got plans, or whatever. But that’s acceptable.”

“I’m sorry, K.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it, a little bit? If I just came out, at least the rest of them would think it was normal for us to spend time together, and we could sit like this wherever.”

“We’re still queer, not straight. We’d still have a ton of work to do and twenty hours a week to work and commuting between McKinley and OSU-Lima, and everything else.”

“Yeah, but I feel like such a... I don’t know,” Puck argues. “Like I said, at least we wouldn’t have to try to hide so much.”

“I don’t know, baby.” Kurt rests his head on Puck’s shoulder briefly. “But you should do what you do because of you, not because of anyone else.”

“I just get scared,” Puck confesses in a whisper. “What if something really bad happens, because I come out?”

“Bad how?”

“Just... _bad_. My mind can come up with a lot of things. I don’t trust this town.”

“Oh.” Kurt reaches up and cups Puck’s face in one hand. “I don’t either,” he admits.

Puck sighs. “Maybe we should, I don’t know. Try harder? Not to isolate ourselves, I mean.”

“The rational part of my brain agrees with you. The rest of me is screaming no.”

Puck chuckles. “Oh, believe me, I agree with that part of you, too. Just. If we’re managing to piss off _Finn_.”

Kurt just nods sadly. “I guess we’ve taken him for granted.”

“He’s a good guy. It’s easy to do. I always tried to watch out for him, make sure people weren’t doing that, you know? And then I go and do it myself.”

“Yeah.” Kurt sighs. “All right. I’m going to send Mercedes a text and see what she’s doing tomorrow evening. And then I _really_ have to get to work.”

“Okay.” Puck kisses Kurt’s forehead.

They work in near-silence for a long time, interrupted only by Mercedes’ answering texts and then Carole as she comes in from her girls’ night out. The door opens again, admitting Burt, when Puck’s phone chimes as Kurt’s buzzes.

“Mass text,” Kurt says with a wry smile, and they both check it.

 _Xtra rehears Th after/even. where? suggest_

“Mike does have a way with shortening words,” Kurt laughs. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, kid. Puckerman.” He nods. “Lots of homework?”

“Tons,” Kurt sighs. “Hey, Dad, you have any suggestions on places in this town twelve kids could practice dancing?”

“The backyard?” Burt shrugs. “When?”

“Uh, Thursday afternoon and evening.”

“Tell ‘em to come here. Carole and me’ll even feed all twelve of you.” Burt smiles and reaches into the refrigerator for a drink.

“Okay.” Kurt shrugs, and the action is so similar to Burt’s that Puck grins. “I’ll let everyone know.”

 _Dad says we can use the backyard + will feed us all dinner_

Their phones chime and buzz for awhile longer, various responses coming through, until Puck really looks at the time and groans. “You should take me home, K. At least we’re both ready for tomorrow?”

Kurt nods, looking up from his French assignment. “This is for Thursday. Why, what time is it?”

When Puck tells him, Kurt’s eyes widen. “Oh, you’re going to be tired again.” He frowns.

“I’ll be fine,” Puck assures him, putting his books back into his bag. “Really. Some extra caffeine and I’ll be good to go.”

“Okay,” Kurt answers dubiously, but stands and pulls Puck close, kissing him slow and deep. “I love you.”

Puck smiles broadly. “I know.” He kisses Kurt almost chastely. “I love you, too.”

“Let’s get you home, baby.” Kurt wraps his fingers around Puck’s and walks them slowly out the door. “You can make nice with Finn tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Puck nods. “I will.” He bumps against Kurt’s shoulder, holding Kurt’s gaze for a moment, and they both smile. Puck can’t help but think his smile probably looks like Kurt’s–a little strained, a little tired, but still managing to be happy.

 

Puck catches up with Finn on the way to history the next morning. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Finn answers, noncommittally.

“Listen, um.” Puck looks around. “S’not intentional. Any of it. I know we’ve kinda taken you for granted.”

“Did Kurt tell you to say that?”

“Uh. No.”

“Oh. He just said about the same thing last night. Taking me for granted or whatever.”

“We talked.” Puck shrugs. “But we do. ‘Cause you’re, you know. You. Which is good. But sometimes that means we do.” He screws up his face. “And you’re probably right about the bubble thing.”

Finn shrugs. “I dunno. I say lots of stuff and most of it’s probably not right.”

“No, I mean. It’s a lot of dividing stuff up and it’s easier in there than out here, so why not stay where it’s easier?”

“I understand _why_ you do it,” Finn sighs. “I really do. I just wish you guys wouldn’t be so hard on the people who pass through your bubble. We’re not all out to, like, pop it or whatever.”

“Yeah, that’s the unintentional part.”

“Well, I already talked to Kurt, so...”

“Yeah.” Puck claps him on the shoulder. “I really do appreciate it all, dude.”

“It’s cool. We’re cool,” Finn nods.

“Cool.” They walk into the classroom and nod at Sam as they sit down.

Wednesday passes in more or less a blur, class and homework and Puck’s two dual enrollment classes followed by football practice. He’s almost ready to head out onto the field when Sam and Mike come in.

“Hey, our girls ditched us tonight, so we’re going to play a few games at Mike’s after dinner. You in, Puck?”

“Yeah, sure.” Puck shrugs.

“Cool. Want a ride?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.” Puck nods. He smirks a little as he heads out the door. Kurt apparently upended their plans.

Puck manages to get a little bit of work done between the end of practice, dinner, and when Sam swings by to pick him up, which means he’s not regretting going out quite as much. He just feels like he’s about to fall behind again, and it’s not a particularly good feeling.

“So, just the three of us,” Sam says conversationally. “Finn’s out with Rachel, Kurt’s with Mercedes and Tina, and Artie has a date.”

“Yeah?” Puck cocks his eyebrow. “With who?”

“Some girl from down in Fort Shawnee. They met at some kind of thing,” Sam gestures expansively. “She’s got a prosthetic leg, I think? He showed me her picture of Facebook, though. Cute little redhead.”

Puck shrugs. “Cool.”

“What about you?” Sam grins at Puck. “You got a special girl? No exploits this year?”

“Nah,” Puck shakes his head. “No girl.” Which is true, he tells himself: there is no girl. And no ‘exploits,’ either. At least not how Sam means. Sam probably doesn’t want to hear about hot gay sex. Though it is _really_ awesome.

“Too bad.” Sam shrugs. “On the other hand, you don’t have to worry about next year and where you’re going and where someone else is going and...”

“Trouble?” Puck asks as they get out of the car.

“Nah, not really trouble. Just... Mercedes and I actually both want to head south. Which sounds awesome, right? But the south is big and out of both of our lists, we have _one_ school that overlaps. No other cities even overlap. I’m looking mainly in Tennessee and Louisiana, and she’s looking a lot down in Georgia and a little in Florida.”

“Still kinda far apart,” Puck acknowledges.

“It’ll be nice to get out there, though,” Mike joins the conversation. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey.”

“S’up. And yeah, it will.”

“At least Sam here will have it decided by, what, the beginning of February?”

“February 1, if everything works out.”

“That’s nice,” Puck acknowledges. “Auditions for Mannes aren’t even until the first weekend in March.”

Mike nods. “Throughout February for me, too. Talk about nerve-wracking.”

Puck makes a face. “Exactly. First you have to wait for a letter that says you even get to audition, then you have to wait again after that.”

“Really? Not everyone gets to audition? That seems unfair.”

“Boston Conservatory only accepts about 160 freshmen a year; they have to narrow it down somehow.”

“I’ll trade you. Forty-eight last year at Mannes.”

“That’s tiny!”

“It really is,” Puck agrees as Mike flips on the Wii and the television. “But it’s in the middle of the Upper West Side, so. Not exactly isolated.”

“That would rock,” Sam agrees. “New York was awesome.”

“And we are so going back,” Mike adds with a grin.

“Oh, yeah,” Puck and Sam both sport matching grins as they start to play.

“Definitely.”

They’re switching games after a little while, needling Puck about his performance. “Hey, I’m used to the Xbox controller! S’what the Munsters have.”

“Sure, sure,” Sam laughs. “Great excuse.”

“Why do you call them that?” Mike asks, curious.

“Apparently Sylvester called them that once at the end of last year. Kurt thought it was hilarious. Finn had no clue what it was, but once Kurt explained it, he did too. It’s a whole lot less of a mouthful to say than ‘Finn-and-Kurt’ or any other combination. ”

“That’s true,” Mike nods, looking thoughtful. “Hey, all that stuff you had yesterday, that was pretty cool.”

Puck just shrugs. “You were right, we didn’t do enough last year. And we should’ve. But the teachers should’ve too.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I mean, it really shouldn’t be up to four or five students to enforce anything. I’m glad Beiste stepped up this year.”

“Yeah, me too,” Mike agrees. “And you were right on with that whole ‘secret service’ idea last year. I don’t think anyone’s messed with Kurt at all this year.”

Puck shakes his head. “Not to his face, anyway.”

“Right. Well, can’t make people not be douchebags in the own heads.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Puck laughs.

They play for just a few more rounds before Puck finds himself yawning. “Tired, Puckerman?” Sam teases.

“Hey, I get up at 5 almost every day,” Puck defends himself. “You’d be tired, too.”

“Yeah, probably,” Sam acknowledges. “How many hours are you working each week still?”

“Twenty. You?”

“Just ten or fifteen, now that my mom’s job is going. I can’t imagine working twenty on top of school and football and glee.”

“And you don’t have dual enrollment classes like Puck,” Mike adds.

“Hey, you two are making me feel tireder!”

Mike and Sam just laugh. “Poor Puck,” Mike coos, and Puck picks up one of the pillows on the floor, tossing it in Mike’s face.

The video games quickly degenerate into a combination of tearing each other down and tossing things at each other, until Mike’s mom appears in the doorway and tells them to calm down.

“Sure thing. Sorry, Mom,” Mike quickly says, nodding. Cowed, they put the room back to rights and Sam and Puck make their excuses.

Sam’s driven Puck most of the way to his apartment when Puck’s phone chimes.

 _You home yet?_

 _Almost. What’s up?_

 _Got official ltr from Hunter. Can we leave yet? ;)_

Puck laughs.

“Who’s funny?”

“Oh, Kurt,” Puck waves his phone sort of generally towards Sam without letting him actually see the screen.

 _I wish K. Congrats :) xx_

 _Thanks. See you in the morning. xx_

Puck puts his phone away before he’s tempted to keep texting.

“Did he say what insanity he and the girls were up to?”

Puck shakes his head. “I think he’s back home now. If he was working all afternoon, probably nails.”

“Yeah, I forget that he knows all that car stuff. That’s pretty cool. I bet he does hate getting grease all over the place.”

“Oh, yeah,” Puck laughs. “There’s Kurt working, and there’s Kurt everywhere else.”

“Maybe I’ll volunteer to take the cars for oil changes next time,” Sam grins. “I gotta see that.”

Puck can feel his body tense, like Sam’s making fun of Kurt or something, and he forces himself to take a deep breath and not snap. “Yeah, he knows his stuff,” he finally says casually.

“That’s really cool, actually,” Sam admits. “I mean, it’s not like _he_ needs a fall-back plan, but it’s still awesome to have a skill like that. I can just follow maps to deliver pizza,” he adds, a little self-deprecatingly.

Puck laughs. “Hey, not everyone can read a map these days, it’s all GPS.”

“There you go.” Sam grins as he pulls up. “See you, dude.”

“Thanks for the ride, man,” Puck nods as he climbs out and heads upstairs.

 

Thursday morning at 7:30, Puck is surprised when a familiar voice calls out a hello.

“Oh, hey, Coach.” He smiles at her. “What brings you here?”

“Had a little extra time this morning and remembered you said you worked in the morning before school. What’s good?”

“I like the scones, but Hudson’s a fan of the muffins. Just don’t take those two whoopie pies.”

“Why not?”

“Kurt’ll steal them from you.”

She laughs. “All right. Let me try one of those scones, and a latte.”

“Sure thing.”

Puck works quickly, and Beiste stands there chatting with him as a few other customers trickle in. “What time you get here in the mornings, kid?”

“Five-thirty.” Puck shrugs. “I only have to work eight more hours on Sunday to get twenty hours in that way. Home’s not far, so it’s a pretty easy walk.”

“You walk to school after this?” She raises her eyebrows.

“No, I get a ride.” He smiles and tilts his head towards the door, towards where Kurt’s already waiting outside.

She nods with a little smile. “Good, good.”

Puck goes to change, then, and grabs all of his stuff before walking out, Coach Beiste nodding from her table where she’s finishing up her scone. “See you tomorrow, Puckerman.”

“See you, Coach.” Puck heads outside and climbs into the Nav. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Kurt smiles. “Missed you.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees. “Talking on the phone isn’t quite the same.” He curls his fingers around Kurt’s. Kurt waits for a moment before starting the engine. “Beiste came in this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently she’s the latte type.”

Kurt laughs. “And here I would’ve pegged her for a cappuccino girl. Alas.”

“I know, really,” Puck grins. He snags Kurt’s hand again and squeezes it. “Gonna be a long day, blue eyes.”

“Long few days.”

“I was trying not to think about that.”

“Ha. I know.” Kurt sighs a little. “There’s a song for this, right?”

“There’s a song for everything. If you ask Schue, there’s a Journey song for everything.”

“And yet, I’m pretty sure there’s really not, where Journey is concerned.”

“Shh. Don’t tell him. It’ll make him tear his vests in grief.”

Kurt laughs. “I want a video of that.”

“Don’t we all?” Puck slides out of the Nav as Kurt sighs and gathers his own stuff. “Time to shoulder on through. Hey, what’s your dad feeding us tonight?”

“I’m not sure. He was muttering something about whether October was too late to grill when I left this morning. So maybe burgers.” Kurt shrugs. “All I know is, Carole was baking last night and even managed to keep Finn at bay after we both got home. So there’s probably lots of dessert.”

“Sweet.” Puck holds the door open without thinking about it, then follows Kurt inside. “Be good,” he grins as Kurt turns towards his class.

“I’m always good,” Kurt smirks, walking backwards for a moment before turning around.

 

They spend surprisingly little time in glee rehearsal actually rehearsing, which makes Puck think maybe Mike didn’t have the worst idea after all. First, Schue gives a five-minute lecture on etiquette, which seems pretty unnecessary at this point, and then has Puck spend ten minutes explaining how the concessions and ticket sales are working.

“Can you check in the performing teams, too? Maybe a team of you. Puck, you can work the table and confirm payment, and we’ll need three others, one to escort each team to their green room. We’re using this room as our green room, of course. I’ve gotten two other volunteers to let us use their classrooms, plus my own, so that’s one for each time.” Schue beams and looks around the room. “Any volunteers?”

“I’ll keep an eye on those Jane Addams girls,” Santana says almost immediately. “Someone needs to make sure they stay in line.” There are a couple of snorts, but no one disputes Santana’s statement nor her ability to be that person.

“I’ll take the school from Dayton, St. Brigid’s,” Kurt volunteers, and Puck’s pretty sure that’s because he doesn’t want to get voluntold to handle the Warblers.  
.  
“Great, great,” Schue nods at both of them. “Just one more volunteer?”

“I would be happy to represent our club with the Warblers, Mr. Schuester!” Rachel declares.

“Great! Thanks, Rachel.” Schue looks around the room for a moment. “So, we have parent volunteers manning the concessions. We just need someone or someones to work the tickets.”

“Mike and I will do it,” Tina volunteers, smiling.

“Good, good. If the rest of you could be available to run errands and generally just take of any last minute issues?”

“I’m always available,” Finn says. “Plus, I’m tall, so I can reach all the up high stuff.”

Mr. Schue looks startled for a moment, but just nods. “Right, right. All right. One final detail: dress code. Normally, I know, you would just wear your costumes, but since the costumes are a little less like usual, I think it would be good if you could all wear black until time to perform. Black collared shirt, black pants.”

“What do you mean by... less like usual?”

“They’re a lot less formal than what we usually wear,” Mr. Schue says after a second. “Invitationals is the time to shake things up, right?” He smiles after a moment. “Now, we don’t have that long left, so let’s do a quick run-through of ‘November Rain.’”

Puck stifles a laugh. They’re going to be _really_ good at ‘November Rain,’ as much as Schue has them run through it.

“Wait!” Rachel says. “Before we do–what do you mean by less formal?”

“We aren’t wearing some kind of grunge throwback, are we, Mr. Schue?” Mercedes asks with a grimace. “Because flannel shirts may have been appropriate back when ‘November Rain’ came out, but not now.”

Mr. Schue does this funny cough-laugh, and Puck has to admit he’s a little curious, too, because he knows Kurt had something to do with picking them out (or maybe he did all of it; Puck wasn’t sure and once Kurt wouldn’t let him see, he didn’t care much after that). “No, Mercedes,” Schue says after a moment, “No flannel shirts. Actually, Kurt put them together for us.”

Kurt looks up and smiles. “Yes. I think you’ll all find them more comfortable for the dancing.”

“Tell us!” Tina looks at Kurt imploringly. “At least tell us where you bought them.”

Kurt tilts his head and has a small smirk on his face. “All right. American Apparel. That’s all I’m telling you.”

“Ooh, different,” Tina nods. “I like it. Can we seem them now or are you keeping us in suspense?”

Kurt just shrugs. “Mr. Schue?”

Schue just shrugs. “Sure. Go for it.” He walks over to the side of the room and drags out a huge box. “They’re all in labeled bags.” He reaches in and starts handing them out, and everyone heads down the hall to the bathrooms.

Puck shrugs and follows the rest of the guys into the bathroom, raising his eyebrow a little at the contents but figuring Kurt has his reasons. Kurt just disappears into one of the actual stalls as he usually does in situations like this, which makes Puck wrinkle his nose and turn his back to the others.

“Pink? Are you sure I got the right bag?” Artie asks, scorn in his voice.

“I’m gonna look like cotton candy,” Finn moans. “A giant sack of cotton candy.”

“Oh, please,” Kurt’s voice floats out of the stall. “Just wait until you see the girls’ costumes and it will make a little more sense.”

“What are these mitten-things?” Sam asks, and Puck turns around to see Sam holding up his socks.

“Socks, dude,” Puck snorts.

“Really?” Sam looks dubiously at the piece of black fabric in his hand. “Okay,” he shrugs, and proceeds to attempt to pull them on.

Puck looks in the mirror and shrugs. Yeah, it does look pretty different from anything any of them (including Kurt) would normally wear, but it’ll be a lot easier to dance in. Kurt emerges from the stall and stands in front of the mirror, then, pushing Puck out the way with his hips as he checks his hair. Puck just snorts and leans on the wall near the door, waiting for everyone to finish.

“Well, let’s go take a look at the ladies,” Mike says finally, and they walk back down the hall to find the girls already in the choir room, their outfits a reverse of the guys’. Pink sleeveless top and grey skirts to complement the pink pants and grey sleeveless tops on the guys. Everyone’s wearing the same shoes, though.

Santana snorts. “We look hot, but you guys just look gay.”

“I think they all look identically beautiful.” Brittany smiles. “We all match, it’s so nice!”

“I look like something you’d buy at a carnival food stall,” Finn whines.

“I would eat you,” Brittany offers, which makes Rachel glare at her.

“These are great,” Rachel pushes to the front, nearest Finn, and twirls around, which means all the guys are now aware that the girls are wearing grey shorts under their skirts. “Aren’t they?” She looks at Finn with a smile.

“Yeah, you look great, Rach,” Finn says, looking her up and down appreciatively. “That’s really nice!”

“Are you _sure_ those are socks?” Sam frowns, picking up his foot. “And are we gonna fall in these shoes?”

“They’re socks,” Mercedes assures him. “And we just all need to scuff up the bottoms a little before we perform. No big deal.”

Finn looks bewildered. “Do what to our bottoms?”

Damn. Puck wishes he wasn’t trying to be nice and not laugh at Finn, because this is getting really funny.

“The bottoms of the shoes, Finn,” Kurt explains patiently. “Everyone can just bring them over to our place and do it on the concrete of the sidewalk. It scratches up the bottom so it’s not so slippery.”

“Oh, ok. That makes sense,” Finn says, “though next time, maybe we should get some shoes with, like, cleats on them or something. Hey, maybe that’d help with my dancing!” he adds sounding hopeful.

“You can’t wear cleats on stage, Finn,” Kurt shakes his head. “It’d damage the floor.”

“Oh. Well, maybe sneakers or something.”

“Right, well,” Mr. Schue breaks in. “So, now you can see why I suggested other attire until time to perform!”

There are nods all around and they only have time to go through one song before Schue dismisses them. They all change out of the costumes and leave them with Schue again before heading out to the parking lot in a group. Puck shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns.

“Hey, Kurt, if you don’t mind driving us back over here, can some of us ride with you?”

Kurt just shrugs. “Sure, I suppose.”

Rachel climbs into Finn’s truck and they head off, and Puck goes ahead and climbs into the Nav, figuring everyone else can sort themselves out.

Which is how he ends up riding to Kurt’s with Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, Santana, Quinn, and Brittany.

Mercedes keeps up a near-constant commentary on some celebrity and all of her hairstyles. Tina interjects her opinion once in a while, but even Kurt can’t manage to get much of a word in edgewise, and Puck’s relieved to see the Hudmel house approaching.

Everyone disembarks as Sam and Mike pull up, and they head towards the front door, which swings open to reveal Burt.

“Hey Puck, girls. Kurt, why won’t you take them on through to the back yard, will ya?” Burt says.

“Sure, Dad.” Kurt walks over and gives Burt a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Did you decide to grill?”

“Burgers and brats,” Burt nods. “And a couple of those giant mushroom things. You know, for Rachel’s weird thing.”

“Those brats aren’t kosher, are they?” Puck raises an eyebrow as the girls pass through the hall.

“Only if your mom calls and asks,” Burt whispers, winking. “If that happens, you bet they are.”

Puck grins. “Awesome.”

Kurt hangs back to talk to his dad for a moment and let Sam and Mike in, and Puck stops in the kitchen to say hi to Carole. “Hey, Mrs. H.”

“Hey, Noah. How are you?”

“All right. You up to feeding all twelve of us?”

“We’re going to try,” Carole grins. “Go rescue Finn, will you? He’s out there with six girls.”

Puck just laughs and steps through the sliding glass door onto the deck, where Finn does in fact look somewhat panicked. Puck hears something about “cleansing” and “diet,” and when he catches Finn’s eye, Finn mouths “Help!”

“You know what’s really good for cleansing,” Puck muses loudly, having absolutely no idea what he’s going to say next, but he figures at least one of the girls will assume something awful.

“Oh, Puckerman, be quiet,” Mercedes snaps. “That’s disgusting.”

“What? You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

The other four appear then, and Kurt clears his throat. “Dad says it’ll be a little while longer, if we want to practice some before we eat?”

“Yeah, let’s,” Mike nods, and then turns to Finn. “You guys have some kind of sound system we can use out here?”

“Uh...my mom has a boom box?” Finn suggests.

Puck can’t help picturing some pastel thing with a carrying strap, relatively small, and he wonders how that’s going to work.

“Sure,” Mike shrugs.

Finn disappears inside for a few minutes and comes back out carrying a very large, rectangular boom box, most decidedly _not_ pastel. Or small. Puck nods a little, impressed. When Carole pokes her head out, as if observing Finn’s behavior with her boom box, he nods at her. “Badass, Mrs. H.”

Carole just laughs. “Oh, stop it, Noah. I was badass long before you were born.”

Finn rolls his eyes and looks mortified. “Mom, geez. Don’t say badass.”

Carole rolls her own eyes before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“That _is_ pretty awesome... in a late ‘80s kind of way,” Artie adds.

“That’s so retro!” Tina chirps.

“It’s not retro. It’s _vintage_ ,” Rachel corrects. “Ms. Hudson-Hummel has held on to some wonderful ‘80s pieces.”

“Yes, because I made her get rid of the ones that weren’t wonderful,” Kurt says under his breath, but Puck hears him and snorts.

It takes a few minutes to get the music set up, and then Mike has them all run through the dance in parts, starting with the individual break out dances during the same-sex couple portion of the dance.

The guys help move Artie’s chair to the concrete pad below the patio stairs and he demonstrates some new turns he’s been working on. At the end, Finn grabs the handles of the chair and leaps up in the air, using the handles as leverage. Artie laughs at him and says, “Do that again, but click your heels once you’re up there.” Finn tries and fails a few times, either failing to get enough leverage or missing heel contact, but after a few attempts, he does a reasonable leap and heel click to the right. There’s a smattering of applause and Finn bows dramatically.

“Thank you, thank you. Next stop, Vegas!”

Puck’s managed to squeeze his way to the back of the group, Kurt right in front of him, and he leans forward to whisper in Kurt’s ear. “Think we should show them the lift now or wait until Saturday?” He rests his hands lightly on Kurt’s hips, everyone’s attention focused on Finn.

Kurt leans back, his back resting lightly on Puck’s chest, and turns his head to the side. “Let’s wait,” Kurt whispers back. “It’ll be a nice surprise.”

Puck chuckles a little and reluctantly releases Kurt as Mike starts to pull Sam up. “All right,” he nods.

Mike and Sam do a passable version of a Viennese Waltz, or at least that’s what Mike calls it, and then Mike motions for Puck and Kurt to do theirs. The dance they’ve been doing in front of everyone else is pretty staid and kinda lame, but Kurt gets to twirl out and back, which he likes, and everyone seems happy with it. Puck smirks to himself, because they are going to be surprised on Saturday.

Tina and Quinn do a reasonably good job, definitely better than Puck would’ve expected at the beginning, and he wonders if they’ve practiced without the others around, too. Mercedes and Rachel are clearly the worst of the three girls’ pairs, and Brittany and Santana just _own_ it.

“I didn’t know they gave the lesbians dance lessons, too,” Puck mutters in Kurt’s ear, and Kurt turns red with suppressed laughter.

Then Mike has them run through the rest of the choreographed dance for the same-sex couples, and he’s about to go through the opposite-six couples when Burt speaks up from beside the grill. “Sorry to interrupt your dancing, but food’s ready,” he says, apologetically.  
“Oh, I think we can stop for food,” Mike grins, and there’s a bit of a rush on the grill. While they’ve been dancing, Carole’s loaded down the table with chips and dip and beans and potato salad and all kinds of stuff, along with hot chocolate and hot cider. Puck hangs back a little, approaching the grill after the initial rush.

“I’ll take a couple of those _kosher_ brats,” Puck grins at Burt.

“You should get you a big scoop of those _kosher_ baked beans, too,” Burt urges. “I swear, I just wouldn’t want to live in a world with no pork.”

“Ooh, sweet. Tell Mrs. H thanks for that.” He lowers his voice. “Should we tell Rachel it’s tofu bacon?”

“It’s not enough that I grilled those giant funguses for her? I say enjoy your bacon and let her worry about her own business,” Burt mutters, shaking his head.

“There’s a thought,” Puck nods. “Thanks, Mr. H.”

“Think nothing of it, son,” Burt says, clapping Puck on the back. “We carnivores have gotta stick together, right?”

“Right.” Puck grins again and moves over towards the others, piling his plate full.

“I, for one, wonder what they’re going to choose to do. All three of them, I mean,” Rachel’s in the middle of saying.

“I’ve never heard of this St. Brigid’s in Dayton. Do you think they’re going to do, like, hymns or something?” Tina asks in between bites of potato salad.

There are three simultaneous groans, from Rachel, Kurt, and Puck, and Kurt continues. “I hope not.”

“What, you guys weren’t fans of ‘Jesus Is A Friend of Mine’?” Sam asks with a grin, and they all shake their heads emphatically.

“I dunno, it kind of made me feel better about _my_ dancing,” Finn muses around his burger, which not only contains two patties and multiple varieties of cheese, but also has every other available condiment slathered on and dripping out the sides.

“What do you think the Warblers will do, Kurt?” Mercedes addresses him.

Kurt just looks at her for a moment and shrugs. “I have no idea. I haven’t spoken to any of them in months. Well, except for running into Trey at Ikea last weekend. Any of you have just as good a guess as I do.”

“Pink...or Katy Perry,” Finn suggests. “Maybe like a Pink and Katy Perry mash-up. ‘Raise your glass to get in my skin tight jeans,’” he sings in a nasal falsetto.

Everyone bursts out laughing, some more sedate than others. Kurt’s laughing so hard that tears are streaming down his face as he howls. Finn jumps up and does a little dance, shaking his butt and making dramatic arm gestures as he sings the line again, in an even more exaggerated falsetto, directing it right at Kurt.

Kurt swoons at his feet, hands clasped over his heart, and lies back on the deck, eyes wide. “Ohh, so wonderful. Another solo! Another!”

“You don’t think it will mess up my hair, do you?” Finn says in a fake, smooth voice. He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Add a little more of that cream, vampire-boy,” Puck calls out.

“My hairstyle is eternal!” Finn cackles. “Now I shall sing another solo! Quick, hand me my blazer!”

“Let me show you a dead animal! It will move you!” Kurt’s rolling from side to side, laughing hysterically, and most of the rest of the club is just staring at the Munsters.

“COURAGE!” Finn hollers, for some reason using a terrible Scottish accent. He also falls to the ground, right next to Kurt.

Puck stands up with a grin and gestures expansively. “And thank you all for coming to Munster-piece Theatre.”

There’s dead silence for a moment before the applause starts, along with laughter. Burt shakes his head. “You boys, I swear.”

“We’re here every night. Okay, most nights,” Kurt amends, sitting up and brushing himself off.

“Uh, boo? You feeling okay?”

Kurt blows a stray piece of hair off his face. “Never better. Except I could use another burger. Why?” He smiles brightly at her.

“Get the man a burger!” Artie yells, and one makes its way over from Burt, passed along from hand to hand, and Kurt takes a bite as soon as it arrives.

Mercedes just continues to look at Kurt oddly, as if she’s contemplating using him for some kind of dissection experiment or something. Finally, she speaks. “Kurt, you sure have been acting weird lately. I think you need to spend more time with your girls.”

Kurt just blinks and stares at her as he takes another bite. “What do you mean?” Puck tightens his jaw a little and deliberately takes a huge bite of his own food. Fuck. First Finn, now Aretha.

“I just think maybe you and Finn are starting to go stir-crazy or something.”

“Hey, I totally...well, ok, I guess I represent that remark. All football and no play. Or, um, I guess I _play_ football, but...” Finn sort of babbles for a minute. “It’s glee and class and football and class and glee and, I mean, no wonder, you know? It’s amazing we’re not all going crazy!”

Kurt shoots Finn an appreciative smile, then nods. “Exactly. This is, what, the first time we’ve all hung out in how many weeks? Except for twenty minutes at Starbucks on Friday mornings?”

“See? You guys are probably all stir-crazy, too, but you don’t have my awesome influence to help you express it. You have to learn to _express your emotions_ , you guys,” Finn says, in a eerily accurate imitation of Mr. Schue, complete with sappy grin. Sam looks impressed.

“Get _that_ man a vest!”

Everyone laughs, and Finn makes this smarmy face and says, “I think we’re all going _Gaga_ around here. Perhaps we should take a...” he pauses dramatically, “ _JOURNEY_.”

The resulting roar of laughter is so loud that Puck hopes no one calls the cops with a noise complaint. As everyone slowly stops laughing, Kurt speaks up, his voice in its lower register. “Hey, we were born this way, baby,” which promptly sets everyone off again. Puck laughs because he really wants to cross the deck and pull Kurt into his arms. That low voice gets him every single time, mainly because he doesn’t hear it often.

Everyone turns back to their food after a few more minutes of laughter, and then Carole comes out and announces that there’s dessert once they finish their practice. That motivates everyone, even Mike, and they go through the remaining portion of the routine with few mistakes. It’s also the simpler portion of the routine, but the smells wafting out of the kitchen are a great incentive.

“Let’s call it a night!” Mike finally announces, and they descend on the table again. Puck grabs a huge serving of apple crisp and a handful of cookies, then claims a seat in the corner before they all disappear. Kurt drops down next to him after a moment, looking a little disheveled, a bead of sweat resting on his forehead. Puck looks over and grins.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Puck keeps smiling. “Just, you know.” He flicks his gaze over Kurt and lets his smile widen. Kurt’s eyes widen a little and then he grins hugely.

“That _would_ be a great way to end the evening,” Kurt whispers, a little wistful, and Puck just nods.

 

Carole serves beef stroganoff for Friday night dinner, and Puck probably eats too much of it, considering he’s going to be playing a game in just a few hours, but he’s already a little tired and a little stressed about the next day, so he figures a full stomach isn’t going to be that bad in comparison.

Kurt drives him over early, and since there’s no one in the parking lot, Puck leans over and presses his lips fiercely to Kurt’s. Kurt’s mouth opens immediately, their tongues coming together a bit sloppily, but Puck doesn’t care. He hasn’t kissed Kurt in days, it feels like, trying to get by on stolen touches and texts and late-night phone calls while doing homework, that they probably should have foregone in favor of just concentrating on the homework, or going to bed.

Kurt’s hand curls around the back of Puck’s neck, pulling Puck towards him. Puck hears Kurt’s head gently hit the glass of the side window, and Puck drapes himself over that stupid fucking console, one hand around the top of the seat to hold him up as he slides his other arm around Kurt’s waist.

They’re still kissing, wet and really messy, and Puck’s not sure if Kurt’s trying to devour him or the opposite, but it probably doesn’t matter, because it just feels so fucking good, and it’s probably needy or something but he’s missed Kurt and at this moment, he’s actually contemplating blowing off the game if Kurt would just agree to it.

Kurt pulls away for just a second, gasping, and smiles before running his tongue along his lips. “God, I missed you, baby.”

“Missed you too,” Puck murmurs, tightening his arm and pulling himself closer to Kurt. “So much, blue eyes.”

Kurt lifts his head just a little, closing the gap between them, this kiss a little less urgent, a little slower. Puck slides his tongue along Kurt’s lips, and one of them whimpers a little as their tongues meet again.

Kurt’s hand moves over Puck’s neck, fingers dipping under his shirt, and Puck’s thinking about that ditching the game plan again, when he hears a sudden rap on the window. He looks up and sees Finn, his body filling up the entire window.

“What?” Kurt says, looking confused. Puck pushes himself up awkwardly.

“Your brother,” Puck grumbles, and Kurt shakes himself before opening the door.

“Yes?”

“Uh, people are starting to park in the lot,” Finn mumbles, looking embarrassed at having interrupted. “Didn’t figure you wanted an audience, but you didn’t seem to, um, notice?”

“Oh.” Kurt pinks a little, and runs a hand over his mouth. “All right.”

Puck settles back into his seat a little more. “Thanks, dude.”

“Sorry.” Finn shrugs and shuffles away from the car.

“Oops?” Puck offers as Finn moves out of hearing distance.

Kurt giggles. “Something like that.” Kurt climbs out of the Nav and then opens the rear door. “Come on, baby, you’ve got to get out there so I can cheer for you.”

Puck cracks a grin and waits on the other side of the Nav for Kurt to walk around. “A blanket?”

Kurt sniffs a little. “You know I get cold.”

“I know you do,” Puck agrees. “Not a bad idea, actually.” Puck squeezes Kurt’s hand as he approaches the locker room door.

“Be good,” Kurt says softly, a small smile on his face as he turns away.

“I’m always good,” Puck calls after him, and he pushes the door open.

Puck runs his thumb absently over his lips as he walks into the locker room, ignoring the few guys that are already in, and heads towards his locker.

“Hey,” he nods at Finn, who’s standing in front of his own open locker.

“Hey,” Finn replies.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Puck mutters, opening up his locker.

Finn just shrugs. “Whatever. Doesn’t upset me or anything. Just didn’t figure that was how you wanted to drop that bomb.”

Puck snorts. “Yeah, probably not. Still. Not your job, so.”

“Meh. We all look out for each other. Anyway, watching Kurt’s back _is_ my job, ‘cause Burt assigned it to me, and watching your back is my job, because if I don’t, Kurt would kill me.”

“He’d probably find a way to get away with it, too,” Puck muses.

“He’s kinda freakshow smart,” Finn says, his eyes wide. “He could hide my body and they’d never find it.”

Puck nods. “Probably,” he agrees, then grins widely as he starts to suit up.

 

Puck can’t shake the yawns as he heads out of the locker room and over to where Beiste is talking with three guys in suits. “Puckerman,” Beiste gives him a smile and motions him over. “Gentleman, Noah Puckerman. He’ll talk to you for a few minutes and help you find a good seat.”

Puck nods and greets each of the men, but this week, the guy from Clemson, looking at Karofsky, goes off with Mike, leaving Puck with a guy from Michigan State, for Finn, and another guy from Rhodes College, for Sam.

“Rhodes? Where is that?”

“Memphis,” the taller of the two nods.

“Oh, right,” Puck nods. “Yeah, Sam mentioned looking at a school in Tennessee.”

“You’re good friends with Evans?”

“Yeah, Hudson, too,” he inclines his head towards the Michigan State guy.

“So I guess you’re a little biased?” The Rhodes guy smiles a little.

“Yeah, probably.” Puck grins easily. “What would you like to know?”

“Do you know how many other schools they’re each looking at?”

“Well, I’m not sure, altogether,” Puck admits. “I think you guys are the third out here, for each of them.” He starts walking towards the stands, feeling like he needs a longer warm-up this week than some, so he needs to get them seated. “They’re both looking for a school where they get some real playing time. Plus, of course,” he gestures around them. “Town like this, the scholarship money is important.” He flashes a grin at Kurt as they pass him. “Hudson’s got a brother going to college next year too.”

Puck stops in front of a set of decent seats. “I really hate to run, but I missed a week of practice including last week’s game, so I need a good warm-up.”

“No, no, of course,” both men nod, and Puck thanks them before trotting back down the stairs. He pauses next to Kurt, who’s sitting on the end, saving space for the rest of them with his blanket.

“Get under your blanket,” Puck chides him.

“I won’t turn into a block of ice.”

“Let’s not take that chance.”

Kurt smirks. “You could thaw me out, couldn’t you?”

“Oh, thanks, K, I needed that image,” Puck laughs as he clambers down the rest of the stairs. “Be _good_.”

“I always am good!”

Puck warms up for longer than usual, but he still feels off. He knows why, and it’s not the extra helping of beef stroganoff. He’s just bone-tired, and the week off just made it worse. Sure, he’s stress, but the stress just makes him more tired.

It’s not his best game ever. It’s probably one of his worst, actually, even though he still manages to run it in for a touchdown once. Beiste doesn’t have much to say, which is somehow worse than if she did, just a pat on his shoulder and a comment about working on a few things the next week, since they have a bye.

Finn looks up from his phone while they’re still changing. “Hey man, Rachel wants me and Kurt to go to coffee with her. You in?”

Puck shrugs on his shirt. “Yeah, sure. Long as it’s not Starbucks.”

 

Coffee out turns out to be Rachel talking to Kurt, while Puck and Finn sit nearby watching Kurt try to get more than a word or two in edgewise. Puck gathers that it has something to do with audition pieces and how to select them, and what is Kurt’s opinion between this, that, and the other piece. Even Kurt looks more than a little bored by about thirty minutes into it, so Puck yawns massively, and it’s only partially faked.

“Oh, you need to get home!” Kurt breaks in. “Baking and Invitationals and everything!” He sounds relieved.

“Yeah, yeah, long day tomorrow,” Finn chimes in.

Puck stands up and grabs the empty cups from the table, tossing them for everyone, and Rachel trails them out of the Lima Bean. “Oh, no, tomorrow is going to be so long and Rabbi Greenberg was so understanding, but...” She looks over at Puck accusingly. “How can you take it so casually?”

Puck just snorts. “Rachel, I haven’t fasted on Yom Kippur since I was old enough to sneak a sandwich. And I had _two_ brats last night. Call the Jew Police.”

Rachel just shakes her head. “Well, some of us take our faith more seriously.” Puck shakes his own head.

“See you tomorrow, guys.”

Kurt climbs in the Nav a few moments after Puck, stopping to say something to Finn first. “Apparently I need to tell Carole that Finn’s having a late snack with all three of the Berrys. Something about vegan cookies.”

“Tasty.”

“Thrilling, I’m sure.” Kurt shakes his head. “I’m not sure why audition pieces for February were a crisis tonight. Unless it’s her way of taking her mind off performing tomorrow.”

“I honestly keep forgetting about the performing part when I get stressed about tomorrow.”

“Understandable. Still want me there around 8?”

“Please. Otherwise we’re going to run out of food. Which means no money.”

“Which means not enough hotel rooms.” Kurt smirks, but it’s a little sad. “I know, baby.”

Puck climbs out and grabs all of his stuff from the back. “‘Night. Be good.”

“I’m always good.”

 

Hannah and his mom leave by 7:45, and he can tell by the chatter in the hall that Kurt's on his way, so he walks over to the door and opens it as Kurt's starting to knock.

"Good morning."

"Is now," Puck grins, and pulls Kurt in the door before backing him against it and kissing him deeply.

"We're supposed to be working."

"Yeah, yeah. It's not _that_ much work." Puck sighs and wraps his arms around Kurt. "I hate this fucking treadmill, blue eyes."

"Me, too," Kurt acknowledges, sighing. "And you're right. But we should at least get something in the oven first."

"Yeah, all right." Puck takes one of the bags from Kurt's hands and they walk into the kitchen, making relatively quick work of getting everything out. "We could be doubly efficient and do that no-bake thing at the same time we bake, right?"

"Sure," Kurt shrugs. "I'll take that, you take the cupcakes?"

And, yeah, it kinda sucks that they're the two who are working the hardest, but Puck's sort of invested now in this idea of getting more hotel rooms _when_ they make it back to New York for Nationals. And Kurt pretty much is, too, for the same reason. Still, he knows Finn's doing something, and the others said they'd bring something, even if it was just napkins in Brittany's case. Knowing Brittany, they'll be colorful or way too big or too small or something, but at least it's something.

It doesn't take Puck long to have the cupcakes in the oven, and Kurt finishes up with the no-bake things, which are wicked sweet and tasty, and Puck thinks it's too bad they need to take them all with them later. Still, once the bowl is scraped clean, Kurt turns to Puck with a gleam in his eye, and then shoots a glance at the timer for the cupcakes. "Twenty minutes, baby?"

Puck laughs. "I'm game if you are, K."

"Then let's go," Kurt tosses over his shoulder, already heading through the living room, and Puck hurries to catch up. Before Puck has both feet in his bedroom, Kurt's shed his shirt, and Puck pulls at his own, tossing it into the basket in the hall; it's covered in cupcake batter now anyway. Kurt closes the distance between them, throwing his arms around Puck's neck before fusing their lips together. Kurt's tongue darts out almost immediately, and Puck lets his mouth fall open under Kurt's urging.

Puck puts his own hands at Kurt's waist, unfastening his belt and then making short work of undoing Kurt's jeans, pushing them down insistently. He palms Kurt's erection over his underwear, and Kurt's hips roll towards him at the same time his tongue thrusts deeper into Puck's mouth.

No, neither of them are going to last long.

As soon as Puck acknowledges that thought, he nearly rips his own jeans and underwear off, then pushes Kurt's underwear off his hips, letting it fall so that Kurt can step out of it. Then Puck puts his hands on Kurt's ass, pulling their bodies flush against each other. Kurt pulls his mouth away slightly, just enough to gasp out, "Want inside you."

Puck nods. "Yeah, yeah," he manages, and they stumble back onto the bed, Puck flipping onto his hands and knees. "Hard, blue eyes."

"Yess." Kurt's left hand clenches at Puck's hip as he leans over Puck's body, rummaging through the drawer closest to the bed before slamming it shut with a cry of triumph. "Gonna make you scream, baby."

"Fuck, yes," Puck pants, his hips already rocking slightly, and he whines when Kurt sits up, removing his weight and his hand.

"Patience," Kurt chides, but Puck can hear the grin on Kurt's face, and then a few pumps before two slicked fingers circle teasingly around Puck's entrance.

"Tease!"

Kurt plunges his fingers in at that, and Puck rocks his hips backwards, trying to pull them farther in. Kurt pumps them in and out a few times, slowly spreading them inside Puck, before pulling out and grabbing the bottle again. Puck can hear Kurt's hand slapping wetly against his cock, and he bites down on his lip, body tense with anticipation.

Then Kurt's setting down the bottle, both slightly-slick hands grabbing Puck tightly, and he pushes in with a slow, single motion. "Ohh shit yeah," Puck nods almost unconsciously, letting Kurt pull his hips back. Kurt stops for a moment, letting them both adjust, then snakes his hand around to take Puck's cock in his hand, and begins thrusting as his hand slides down.

"God, so tight," Kurt gasps out as he moves. "Fuck. Missed… missed this."

Puck squeezes his eyes shut as he nods. "Me too," he breathes, voice low. "Harder, K."

Kurt's only answer is a low moan, and then his fingers dig into Puck as he complies. His other hand speeds up on Puck's cock, and Puck moves first into Kurt's hand and then back towards him. He tightens around Kurt, and after Kurt grunts and thrusts harder, Puck does it again, his fingers tangled with the bedcovers in awkward fists. "Come, baby," Kurt whispers, and he thrusts in deep, moving furiously.

Puck screams as he comes hard, covering his chest and Kurt's hand, clenching around Kurt. Kurt continues thrusting into Puck, and then he answers the sound with a low keen, and seconds later, Puck can feel Kurt filling him. When Kurt's hands move and Kurt slowly pulls out, Puck collapses onto his bed, lying on his side. Kurt follows suit, curling towards him, and drags a hand over Puck's chest before carefully licking it clean, eyes on Puck the entire time. "Fuck, blue eyes," Puck huffs. "Just… _fuck_."

Kurt grins as he finishes cleaning off his hand. "Yes, we did." He closes the distance between them, running his tongue along Puck's lips until Puck yields and Kurt slides his tongue inside, fitting his mouth over Puck's. Puck rolls onto his back and pulls Kurt on top of him, deepening the kiss as he does so. Kurt's hand skims up the side of Puck's torso, and Puck grabs it, twining their fingers together.

The timer buzzes loudly, and Puck breaks the kiss, swearing. "Stupid cupcakes."

“I suppose we need to check on that.”

“Yeah.” Puck sighs and rolls off the bed, grabbing his jeans as he walks out the door back to the kitchen. “What else do we need to do?”

“The pan of cinnamon rolls, and then the pigs in a blanket.”

“Right. And the icing, I guess.”

“Yes.” They work steadily for awhile before Kurt’s phone rings, yet another Lady Gaga song blaring out. “Carole,” Kurt says with a nod before answering. “Hi, Carole, what’s up?”

He pauses for a moment, then looks at Puck. “Do you guys have a slow cooker, Carole wants to know?”

Puck wrinkles his forehead. “I think so?”

“Apparently Carole got Ray’s to donate some other stuff and she needs slow cookers to keep things warm.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll check.”

“Puck’s going to check. Yes, we’ll see you at 11. Yes, Mr. Schue’s feeding us, he said.” Kurt nods again as Puck holds up a slow cooker. “Yes, Puck has one. Bye, Carole.”

“More food, huh?”

“Apparently. So that’s good.”

“Yeah. What was Finn making, again?”

“Rice Krispie treats, I think. My dad said something about supervising, so hopefully they’ll actually come out tasty and make it to the school.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, that’ll be a challenge.”

By 10:30, they start packing all the food into containers and then Kurt takes a few loads downstairs while Puck changes into black slacks and a black shirt. “Looking good,” Kurt teases as he comes back upstairs, carrying his own bag.

Puck just preens for a moment, and then grabs a load of his own while Kurt disappears into Puck’s bedroom. When he gets back upstairs, Kurt’s wearing his own all-black outfit, and Puck pulls him close. “Nice,” he grins, before kissing Kurt softly.

“Let’s go rock this thing,” Kurt nods, pressing his lips to the corner of Puck’s. “Everything packed?”

“Everything packed,” Puck confirms with a nod. “Kitchen moderately clean, even.”

“Here we go.” Kurt grabs Puck’s hand in his and they head out the door and down the stairs for the quick drive over.

Mr. Schue is the only one there when they arrive, though others start arriving quickly after that. The first hour passes in a blur of set-up, everyone running in multiple directions and more than a little confused. At noon, though, Mr. Schue calls everyone into the choir room for lunch, and they all collapse into chairs with pizza-laden plates.

“What’s left to do?” Quinn asks after a few moments.

“Are the other green rooms prepared?” Schue asks.

Sam nods. “Everything backstage is prepped, and the A/V guy is supposed to be here in thirty minutes.”

“Check-in for the performers starts in an hour,” Puck supplies, “so we should make sure the lobby is completely ready next.”

“All right,” Schue nods. “Everyone head to the lobby after we finish in here. I’ll clean up in here and distribute the water bottles to each green room.”

Forty-five minutes later, Puck, Santana, Kurt, and Rachel are sitting behind the table marked “Performers Check In Here,” and everyone else is milling about.

“I can’t find my other shoe!” Finn yells. “Has anybody seen my other shoe? I took them out of the bag to scuff their bottoms some more and now I can’t find one of them.”

“Left one or right one?”

Finn has to stop and look at his remaining shoe for a minute. “Right one!”

“Did you check the parking lot?” Santana says. “I think Rachel drove it here.”

“No, I’m pretty sure a Cuban family is using it to sail to Florida,” Kurt suggests.

Rachel sighs. “Finn, you left it on top of your truck.”

“I did? Oh, right, I did!” Finn grins and sprints out, presumably to retrieve his shoe from the top of his truck.

“Anyone else missing anything?” Kurt asks as the door shuts behind Finn. “Better we discover it now.”

“I think I lost my underwear,” Brittany says, a frown on her face. “I mean, I set them out this morning, but then later I couldn’t find them.”

“Did you put them on, Britt-Britt?” Santana asks gently.

Brittany brightens and pulls her pants down just a little. “I did! Thanks, Sanny.”

Finn comes gallumphing back in, shoe held aloft. “Found it, guys!” he exclaims. “Oh, I also think one of the other groups is here. I saw a van full of girls with their hair in those roller things.”

“And that is probably my cue,” Santana says, standing up and walking to look out at the parking lot. “Yep. One vanful of Jane Addams girls, coming right up.”

The girls do, in fact, all have their hair up in curlers as they walk in behind their director. The director purses her lips when she walks to the check-in table and sees four students behind it. “Mr. Schuester not here?”

“He’s taking care of other details, ma’am,” Puck manages a smile. “Here’s the list of times for everything, including blocking, and directions regarding your music selections and the A/V guys.” He hands over one of the stacks of paper Mr. Schue had left on the table. “Santana will escort all of you to your green room.”

Santana nods in the director’s direction and scans the assembled girls before giving a second, sharp nod. “Right. Follow me, please. Your green room is the Spanish classroom and is close to one of the girls’ bathrooms.” They grumble a little as they follow Santana, but she keeps a bright, fake smile on her face and a glare in her eye as she rounds them up.

“That’s dedication, to walk around with those in your hair. In public, I mean,” Quinn says.

“I think I’ll skip the curlers altogether, myself,” Mike jokes, and the rest of them laugh.

Mr. Schue hurries in then. “I need a couple of people to help out backstage really quick. Uh... Finn? Sam?”

“I can do it, Mr. Schue,” Finn offers. “I’ve gotta put my shoes back with the other stuff anyway.”

Sam nods as well, and the two of them disappear into the auditorium with Mr. Schue.

“I think those must be the kids from St. Brigid’s,” Tina announces unnecessarily as a large bus with a painting of a cross pulls up.

“Oh, this will be fun,” Kurt mutters under his breath, and Puck snorts back a laugh before they smooth their faces as three nuns enter.

“Oh, what a lovely little school,” one of them says as she approaches. “Hello, I’m Sister Maria Carmina, the director of the St. Brigid’s show choir.” She hold out her hand and Puck shakes it, wondering absently if a bad Jew and a Catholic nun shaking hands is like matter and antimatter or something. Nothing explodes, though, so he starts speaking.

“Welcome to McKinley.” He picks up the stack of paper for them and explains all the information in it. “Kurt’s going to show you to your green room.” Kurt stands and smiles.

“Nice to meet you,” he says pleasantly as the St. Brigid’s choir finishes disembarking and filtering into the lobby. “Your green room is just down this hallway,” he adds, and starts walking backwards.

“I’ve actually not been inside a public school since I was on the basketball team in high school. We often played against some public school teams,” one of the nuns comments. “It’s so much cleaner than they used to be.”

Puck can hear Kurt let out a surprised “Thank you,” before their voices fade away completely.

There’s a general silence amongst those left in the lobby for a few moments, and then Mike looks out the windows. “Warblers are here.”

“Oh joy, oh bliss,” Puck mutters, and Rachel elbows him, but it looks like she’s trying not to smile.

Soon enough, the doors open, and sixteen or so blazer-wearing boys march in, Blaine near the front, and Puck’s pretty sure that Trey kid is next to him. As they reach the table, Puck pucks on what he hopes is a congenial, bland smile. “Hello, Blaine. Hello, Trey.”

Trey beams an overly familiar smile. “Hello, Puck, isn’t it?” He offers Puck a hand to shake, like a fat junior investment banker.

Puck suppresses his amusement and shakes his hand firmly. “How are you?”

“Doing fine, doing fine,” Trey chirps, continuing to shake Puck’s hand manically. “So, where’s Kurt? I was hoping to say hello before the show!” He cuts his eyes over at Blaine and then back to Puck, turning up the wattage on his smile.

“Oh, he’s around here somewhere,” Puck says, pleasant smile still fixed on his face as he extricates his hand from Trey’s. “And Blaine? How are you?”

Blaine’s smile is just a little strained as he replies. “Oh, I’m doing quite well. It’s good to see you in better health than expected.”

 _Bingo_. Trey obviously talked to Blaine. “The rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated.”

“Blaine!” Rachel interrupts, pulling Blaine into an awkward side-hug. “It’s always a pleasure to see you!”

“Hello, Rachel,” Blaine smiles at her. “How are you? Finn?”

“‘Huh? What about me?” Finn ask, popping through the doorway behind the Warblers as though invoked. When he sees Blaine, his mouth twitches a little and Puck remembers the scene on the deck Thursday night.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Blaine smiles in a way that Puck’s sure is meant to be charming. “It’s good to see you, Finn. How are you?”

“‘Sup,” Finn says, with a little jerk of his head. “I’m swell. You?” He draws the word ‘swell’ out oddly, almost mockingly.

“Oh, I’m fine, fine. Looking forward to everyone’s performances today of course, though I must say, I think the Warbler’s selections are positively inspired. We’re doing a tribute to all-male pop groups. What about New Directions?”

Finn opens his mouth as if to say something, puts his finger up, and then drops his hand and closes his mouth. He shakes his head, turns, and walks back out.

“Oh, we’re doing a nice variety of songs,” Rachel beams at Blaine. “I think we should keep two of them of a surprise, but we’re going to reprise one of our numbers from Nationals. Noah here wrote the music, and Finn wrote the lyrics.”

“Wow, I’d heard you guys wrote original songs for Nationals, too,” Trey gushes. “Were they are good as the ones you did at Regionals?”

“Well, I admit I’m biased towards the one I wrote,” Rachel giggles a little, “not to mention the one Finn wrote for me. And of course Noah did the music for ‘Loser Like Me’ as well.”

“That’s so impressive!” Trey’s practically bouncing on his feet, continuing to shoot apparently meaningful (to Blaine, but meaningless to Puck) looks in Blaine’s direction. Blaine looks like his smile is growing more strained, but Puck is sure that his own looks a little faked as well.

“Here’s all the information you need,” Puck says abruptly, handing the last stack of paper to Trey, as he’s closer. “Blocking will start soon and you’ll need to get your music information to our A/V guys soon. Rachel here will take you to your green room. Coach Beiste generously is allowing you all to use the locker room. Please don’t bother our football equipment.”

“Of course, of course,” Blaine nods and looks at Rachel.

“Follow me, boys,” Rachel says, smile still bright, and leads them out of the lobby like a scene from that book Hannah used to love so much, _Madeleine_. “So, _Blaine_ , how have you _been_?” Puck can hear her squeal as they round the corner.

 

“I’ve been well,” Blaine assures the diminutive girl. “Just busy with schoolwork and college applications, of course. What about you? What’s new here at McKinley?”

“Oh, you know how it is! College applications and rehearsals, of course, but also lots of regular teen age stuff!”

“Oh?” Blaine tries not to sound too interested. “Regular teenage stuff?”

“You know,” Rachel says, “pep rallies and parties and dating!” She smiles conspiratorially. “We have a new couple in glee this year, and so that’s been a lot of fun! They tried to hide at first of course, but that never works around here.”

“You do?” Blaine almost trips as he follows her down the hall. “W–who?”

“Sam--that’s the blond one, remember?--and Mercedes!” Rachel squeaks excitedly. “They’re just so cute together. I never would have guessed, but they’ve been together for months!”

“Oh,” Blaine sighs, a little deflated. He leans a little closer to Rachel. “And–and Kurt? How is he?” he asks quietly.

“Kurt’s doing great,” Rachel says, a little more gently. “Really. He’s seemed very happy this year, and his PFLAG group has really taken off. Of course, we were all upset about what happened with Noah...”

“So what _did_ happen to Puck?” Trey asks. “When I saw them at Ikea, he had the remnants of a black eye! Was he in some trouble?”

Rachel seems surprised by Trey’s statement somehow, Blaine thinks, and he wonders what portion of it surprised her. “Yes, I could tell from Facebook that something was not quite right,” Blaine adds.

“No trouble _he_ caused,” she says. “Noah’s been a model student lately. No, there was an incident in the locker room with some bigoted young miscreants.”

“Bigoted? Did it have something to do with Puck’s religion?” Blaine asks gently.

“What?” Rachel asks, surprised. “Oh, no, not that. While there’s certainly plenty of misunderstanding at this school regarding the Jewish faith, I’ve never heard anything blatantly offensive from anyone. These boys were making homophobic statements and then assaulted Noah when he politely asked them to stop.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Blaine says, genuinely upset. “It’s good to hear that there are so many... allies here, though.”

“Well, we’re working on it,” Rachel says, her voice proud. “Kurt’s put a lot of work in with PFLAG, and we’re all attending the meetings. Finn and Noah especially have really taken the lead as straight allies at McKinley.”

“ _Straight_ allies?” Trey asks.

“Straight allies are heterosexual people who believe in equality for gay people,” Rachel explains. “Like the straight part of a Gay-Straight Alliance!”

Blaine listens with a raised eyebrow. Either Trey was quite mistaken with what he perceived, or Puck is deep in the closet, dragging Kurt and their relationship with him. He contemplates asking Rachel if she’s noticed anything to confirm Trey’s observations, but before he can come to a decision, Rachel pulls up short in front of the boys locker room.

“Here you gentlemen go! You’ll find water bottles inside. If there’s anything you need, just send someone to look for me or any of the other members of New Directions!” With that, she bounces off in the direction from which they just came.

After they pass into the locker room, Blaine turns to Trey with an upturned eyebrow. “Are you _sure_ you couldn’t have misinterpreted things?”

“I’m sure I saw what I saw, Blaine,” Trey says, shaking his head. “Maybe Rachel doesn’t know?”

“If Rachel doesn’t know, I don’t think anyone knows. You heard what she said about Puck, about him being a ‘straight’ ally.”

 

There’s silence in the lobby for a minute after Rachel leaves, and Puck spends a few minutes moving the check-in table out of the way and adding the check from St. Brigid’s to the cash box at the concession stand. He’s just looking around to see what else there is to do when Rachel comes back into the lobby, her task clearly complete.

“So, Trey says he saw you at Ikea this past weekend,” Rachel says, leaping right into the conversation with both feet. “And I happen to know that _Kurt_ went to Ikea this past weekend. Did you and Kurt go to Ikea _together_?”

Puck just stares at her for a moment, then blinks before nodding slowly. “Yeah, neither of us are likely to live in dorms next year,” he replies finally, settling for the least committal response possible.

“Don’t you think you should figure out your living situation before you start buying furniture? I mean, what if your roommate already has a lot of stuff?”

“Didn’t buy anything.” Puck shrugs. “Just looked.” He takes a deep breath and tightens his jaw a little, hoping Rachel won’t notice.

“Oh, well I suppose that’s reasonable,” she muses, giving Puck an odd look, interrupted by Finn jogging up to her.

“Hey Puck,” Finn pants. “Rach, I need you. We’re gonna run through ‘Pretending’ again, ok?”

“Oh, of course!” Rachel’s face quickly morphs into a wide smile. “We’ll talk later, okay, Noah?”

“Uh, sure,” Puck nods, watching her walk away with some relief.

 

Kurt walks back into the lobby after a moment, looking wide-eyed. “There are three nuns and twenty-four devout Catholic teenagers. Or at least purportedly devout. None of whom has ever attended a public school.”

Puck winces. “Fun. I sort of wondered if something would explode when I shook the nun’s hand, especially with it being Yom Kippur and all.”

Kurt laughs. “ _That_ would have been funny. Everyone’s here now?”

“Yeah. That was interesting, by the way, and then when Rachel returned, she mentioned Trey seeing _us_ at Ikea.”

Kurt’s eyes widen a little. “Oh. Did she...?”

“She just talked about not buying things yet, but she left with the promise of _talking later_.”

“I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” Puck shrugs. “Not much we can do about it, right? And I doubt either of us will talk to Trey or Blaine the rest of the day.”

“True.” Kurt looks around the lobby, and Puck follows his eyes. Mike and Tina are already sitting at the tickets table, Sam and Mercedes sitting there as well. Quinn, Santana, and Brittany are near the concessions, helping Burt and Carole. Finn and Rachel are still wherever they’ve disappeared, and Artie’s probably helping out the A/V guy with the blocking slots. “How many tickets did we sell through pre-sales?”

“Not that many; maybe fifty?” Puck replies. “We forgot about the will-calls, though, I’m gonna grab Sam and Mercedes and see if one of them will help Mike and Tina and the other handle the will-calls. Can you grab a little table for that?”

“Of course.” Kurt walks over to the stack of tables against the wall, and Puck heads towards Mercedes and Sam.

 

When the doors open for ticket sales, there’s a small, if gratifying, line, and Mike, Tina, and Sam are kept busy taking money. Everyone else is standing in a group, half-watching people arrive and half-speculating as to what the other teams will do.

“Blaine said something about a tribute to all-male pop groups, but I bet that means boy bands,” Rachel says, and several people nod.

“As long as it’s not ‘Backstreet’s Back,’ we’ll survive,” Santana says dryly, and everyone laughs. Mercedes finishes with the last of the will-calls and drifts over.

“Well, it’s nice of Coach Beiste and Ms. Pillsbury to come, but it sure would be nice to see some other teachers here. Or Figgins,” she comments.

“Like that’s going to happen,” Puck snorts. “We’re lucky we have as many people here as we do.”

“Hey, there’s Brad,” Brittany pipes up.

“Who’s Brad?” Kurt asks, eyebrow raised.

“The piano player!”

“Oh, is that his name?” Puck turns and has to grin when he sees a lot of elementary-school aged kids and their parents around him. “Awesome.”

“We might really make a significant amount of money from this!” Rachel gushes.

“That was the idea.”

Suddenly a voice starts singing from behind Kurt, and Puck has to bite back his laughter.

“Jesus is a friend of mine, Jesus is my friend, I have a friend in Jesus, Jesus is a friend of mine!”

Kurt rolls his eyes and spins in place. “I should _never_ have told you how much we hated that song.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” April agrees, then flings herself into Kurt’s arms, causing him to stumble. “Aren’t you going to introduce me around?”

“Of course, how could you doubt it?” Kurt says dryly. “Everyone, this is April. She’s part of Aural Intensity, as you probably gathered from that lovely display. April, this is everyone.”

April rolls her eyes. “You are no fun. Names, Hummel. Names.”

“Fine.” Kurt sighs dramatically. “The three behind the tickets table over there are Sam, Mike, and Tina. This is Finn, and Rachel.” Rachel smiles, and Finn just waves. “Over here we have Quinn, Artie, Mercedes, Puck,” Puck nods his head, and she winks at him after a second, “Brittany, and Santana.”

April looks Santana up and down and grins slowly. “Well, hello there, gorgeous,” she purrs, causing almost everyone’s eyes to widen. Kurt just rolls his eyes.

“Stop hitting on my teammates.”

“Whine, whine. I already hit on all the girls with Aural Intensity _and_ Vocal Adrenaline. It’s time to move on to New Directions. Also maybe those Jane Addams girls?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend that,” Santana speaks up. “I walked them to their green room and that would be biting off more than you can chew.”

Puck can hear Rachel whispering to Finn. “Who _is_ this girl?”

“She’s Kurt’s friend,” Finn whispers back, as quietly as Finn’s capable of whispering, which isn’t particularly quiet. “I think he met her at the Gay Club or whatever in Dayton.”

“The Gay Club? What’s that?” Rachel asks, her face confused.

“I don’t remember what it’s really called,” Finn confesses. “It’s like our PFLAG group we have here, only it’s got its own building. They have meetings and sometimes Kurt drives down to them.”

“Oh, like a GLBTQ youth center!” Rachel brightens. “How nice.”

“Yeah, I think it’s been really great for th-Kurt. It’s good he has a place where he doesn’t have to watch his back or worry about what people think,” Finn says. He smiles his little crooked grin. “Kind of like what we’ve got with glee club only nobody has to worry about gossip at school the next day.”

Rachel nods, and Puck has to shake his head a little at Finn’s almost-slip. Rachel didn’t _seem_ to notice, but clearly she’s had a few too many clues already. He mentally shrugs. At this point, the only way he could really throw her off the scent would be to take a girl out on a few dates, and he swore to himself he wouldn’t do that back in June.

“So do you guys have something awesome planned?” April asks. “And who are these St. Brigid’s people?”

“Oh, we have a couple of surprising numbers, definitely,” Rachel smiles at her. “I think they’ll make our competition sit up and take notice.”

“And St. Brigid’s is Catholic. Very, very Catholic,” Kurt says with a sigh. Finn raises his eyebrows and does that one-eyed squint that indicates he has no idea what Kurt is talking about and requires further explanation. It says something about all three of them that Puck knows that Kurt will answer the question that’s not even asked. “Three nuns,” Kurt explains, “and all of the students as well as the nuns have never gone to anywhere but Catholic school. They were stunned at our public school facilities.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” Mercedes asks warily.

“In a good way,” Kurt concedes. “It was still an unusual conversation.”

“Well, it’s been real,” April announces, “but I’ve gotta jet and find out where I’m sitting. I’ll catch you after, Hummel.” She gives Kurt a big hug and then waves to the rest of them before running off after her own club.

“So that was April,” Kurt announces unnecessarily. “I swear she’s not as predatory as she seems.”

Santana snorts. “Feisty thing, isn’t she?”

Puck catches himself before he can speak, because the answer is on the tip of his tongue– _oh you have no idea_.

“She seems to really like Santana,” Finn offers. “Maybe you guys could be friends!”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she didn’t want to be _friends_ ,” Mercedes offers.

“I want to be her friend!” Brittany announces. “She looks like a really fun friend.”

“Oh, hey, guys,” Mr. Schue comes up. “Let’s go ahead and get in the theatre. A couple of your parents are going to relieve Sam, Mike, and Tina, so we can make sure and not miss any of the performances.”

“Who’s going first, Mr. Schue?” Rachel asks. “I know we, of course, are going last.”

“Jane Addams Academy is up first, then St. Brigid’s. The Warblers will go after intermission, and yes, Rachel, we will close the show.” Schue beams.

“Ok, everybody,” Finn says, upbeat and grinning and a little too loud. “Let’s go show ‘em how New Directions does it!”

Sam, Mike, and Tina join them then. “Let’s huddle up!” suggests Rachel, and everyone puts their right hand in, some more reluctantly that others. Well, everyone except Brittany, who puts in her left hand at first.

“Let’s go McKinley!” Rachel chants, and they all break apart before moving into the auditorium.

It takes less maneuvering than Puck anticipates to find himself sitting next to Kurt. Mercedes is on the other side of Kurt, and Rachel ends up on Puck’s other side. “Well, this should be interesting,” Rachel says after a moment. “We haven’t ever seen the St. Brigid’s kids, and it’s been quite awhile since we saw the girls from Jane Addams.”

“Just please no Jesus numbers,” Puck groans. “I think it’d be doubly offensive today.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d care,” Rachel snipes.

“Just ‘cause I’m not as observant as you doesn’t mean I don’t care,” Puck responds, his right eyebrow twitching.

Rachel sort of shrugs, almost like she’s a little uncomfortable, and then dips her head once. “Fair enough.”

The lights flicker then, and Puck turns in his seat to scan the auditorium. “It’s almost a full house,” Kurt whispers. “And look at all those elementary school kids! You did good, baby.”

Puck grins. “Yeah, I can’t believe so many of them showed.”

The lights go down completely, then, and Mr. Schue walks onto the stage. “Hello, everyone and thank you for coming!” There’s applause which causes him to pause. “We’re so excited that you’ve come out to the William McKinley High School Invitationals, hosted by our own New Directions, who will be performing at the end of the program this afternoon.” He pauses and looks at a piece of paper. “Our first performers are the glee club from Jane Addams Academy. Please give them a warm McKinley welcome!” There’s more applause as the spotlight fades and Schue walks off the stage, carrying the microphone with him.

A few seconds pass before the music starts and the curtain comes up, the girls dancing on stage. Puck furrows his brow. “Isn’t that...?”

Rachel and Kurt both nod, and Kurt continues. “Yes. _Fame_.”

It’s not _bad_ , and while some of the audience seems to really be enjoying it, it seems to be the older contingent, which makes Puck think that, strategically speaking, they should have saved this song for a competition. His opinion is only confirmed when the music slides into “Footloose” without missing a beat. Their dancing, he does note, is not nearly as polished as New Directions’, and the twelve of them exchange nods and glances that are quite smug. The transition to “Lady Marmalade” is more than a little jarring to Puck but they do the song well.

There’s a five-minute recess after the applause stops, for the Jane Addams girls to come take their seats and the St. Brigid’s group to vacate theirs and head backstage. “Did you see those costumes?” Kurt shakes his head. “They weren’t inappropriate, I mean–just _ugly_.”

“I know,” Mercedes says with a nod. “Maybe they had a low budget.”

“A small budget is no excuse for that shade of green paired with that shade of orange.”

“That is true.”

The lights go down again, and in the moment of pure darkness, Puck fumbles for Kurt’s hand and squeezes it once. Kurt’s fingers return the squeeze just before they mutually let go and the spotlights come up on the stage, the first strains of jazz spilling into the auditorium. “‘All That Jazz’,” Kurt murmurs into Puck’s ear. “From _Chicago_.” Puck nods.

“Think they’re doing a set all from that?”

“That would be interesting.” Puck can almost feel Kurt’s lips curving against his ear. “I auditioned for glee club with a song from _Chicago_ , you know. ‘Mr. Cellophane.’”

“Never saw it,” Puck admits, knowing it means he probably will in the next month or two.

“I’ll remedy that,” is Kurt’s answer, and Puck just smiles as he nods.

The dance steps are impressive, but after a few moments, Puck notices Rachel wincing, and he has to agree with her–the notes are falling just a little flat. There’s a considerable gap between the end of the song and the beginning notes of the next one. “Norah Jones? Really?” Puck can’t help but say.

It’s a different soloist, yes, but the music is slow and sweet, a big departure from the first number, and Puck wonders if the nuns just randomly turned on the radio to put their set together.

At least it’s not Jesus songs.

Puck thinks he might retract that statement as they begin their third number. It starts out okay; he’s pretty sure the song is by Rihanna, and they do a good job with the music and the choreography. Then it dawns on all of them, around the same time, that it’s actually a mash-up.

A mash-up with Chris Brown.

“This isn’t a mash-up,” Mercedes finally says, a look of horror on her face. “This is a damn _trainwreck_.”

There’s a lot of vigorous nodding. There’s utter silence for just a touch too long as the song ends before the applause starts.

Then the lights come up, and the twelve of them stand. “It’s really too bad this isn’t a competition,” Puck can’t resist saying. “Because we would own this thing.”

Finn leans across Rachel. “I heard what I thought I just heard, right?”

“If you heard the worst possible mash-up _ever_ , then yes.”

“I bet that Tea Party lady from last year would have loved it,” Finn muses.

“Tea Party lady would _hate_ our number,” Puck grins.

“Today, western Ohio, tomorrow the world,” Kurt says with a smirk as they all head out of the auditorium towards the choir room.

“For what?” Finn asks.

“Advancing the gay agenda, of course,” Kurt says, completely deadpan.

Puck just snorts back a laugh. Finn looks a little confused, but chuckles a little when he sees Puck laugh.

“Oh, Kurt, you shouldn’t joke about things like that!” Rachel protests, though it seems a bit half-hearted.

“I get my kicks where I can, Rachel Berry,” Kurt replies, eyebrows raised.

They walk into the choir room then, everyone scrambling for their costumes. “Everyone, grab an empty classroom and work on your spotlight dance, and be back in here in 15!” Mike yells over the chaos, and then they all head to the bathrooms nearby to change.

Kurt and Puck are the first two guys dressed, and they head to a classroom farthest away from the choir room or the auditorium. As soon as the door closes, though, Puck can’t resist grabbing Kurt’s hand and pulling him close, Puck leaning against the wall and letting it support both of them. Kurt grins up at him. “I thought we were going to work on that lift.”

“In a bit, blue eyes,” Puck smiles, and then puts a hand on the back of Kurt’s head, pulling him in and mashing their lips together. Kurt’s tongue runs along Puck’s lips for just a split second before Puck parts them, drawing Kurt in and immediately deepening the kiss. Puck slides his other hand to Kurt’s ass and pulls him close, and he can feel Kurt’s erection nestle against his own. “Fuck,” he gasps out as they pull apart. “Need more time.”

“I know,” Kurt agrees, a little mournfully, as he rests his head on Puck’s shoulder, burying his face in Puck’s neck. “I guess we should practice that lift so we can knock ‘em dead.”

“Oh, they’re gonna be surprised,” Puck grins. “Definitely.”

They run through the lift twice and then head back towards the choir room, cutting in close on Mike’s suggested time of arrival, when Puck spots a familiar gelled head. “Hobbit ahead.”

“Hmm?” Kurt quirks an eyebrow, then looks to where Puck is glancing.

“I’ll go on,” Puck says with a nod down the hall to the choir room. “Unless you want...” He trails off, because he doesn’t know what the protocol is here.

“No, it’s fine.” Kurt motions him on with a slight smile. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Puck watches the smile fade and then walks down the hall. He hears Kurt greet Blaine, then enters the choir room.

“Where’s Kurt?” Finn asks. “Weren’t you guys supposed to be practising?”

“Yeah, he’ll be here in a minute,” Puck jerks his head towards the door. “Blaine stopped him.”

Finn winces. “Fun times.”

“I’m sure,” Puck agrees with a snort.

Mike claps his hands together, looking sort of frenzied, and it hits Puck that this is probably, to Mike, what “Loser Like Me” kinda was to him. Mike’s choreographed for himself, sure, but not for all of them, and not from scratch. “Let’s do a run-through of the switch-off just once more,” he begs, and then Kurt comes hurrying into the room.

“Sorry,” he tosses out, and Puck can tell he looks a little distressed and maybe a little angry. “Blaine wanted to have a _word_ ,” he tosses out, and Puck knows that it’s definitely anger, at Blaine, at something he said.

Puck wonders just how much Blaine’s figured out.

“No problem,” Mike assures him, and then they go through the steps again before returning to the auditorium to listen to the Warblers’ set.

The lights dim in the auditorium, and the Warblers file onto the stage in the dark. Their first notes ring out as the stage lights come up, and Puck tilts his head. “What. the.”

“Isn’t this, like, from the ‘80s?” Mercedes asks.

“It _is_ by an all-male pop group,” Rachel concedes as they move into the chorus.

 _Step by step  
Oooh baby  
Gotta get to you girl  
Step by step  
Oooh baby  
Really want ya in my world_

“I still find it strange for a gay man to invest so much energy in heteronormative songs,” Kurt muses.

“I find his musical choices in general strange.” Puck just shrugs.

“I suppose it was the council.”

“Yes, I could tell Trey was going to contradict Blaine.”

Kurt snorts back a laugh as the song comes to an end. “Let’s see what they have for us next.”

As soon as the music starts, Puck can’t help singing the words lightly under his breath. The words to the Weird Al version, that is.

 _Tell me why I bid on Shatner’s old toupee  
They had it on eBay_

Kurt hits his arm lightly but starts singing along, and on the other side of Rachel, Puck can hear Finn start singing too.

By the time they reach the mid-point of the song, Puck’s pretty sure there are at least seven or eight people in the area singing along in their own special way.

 _I’ll buy... your tchotchkes  
Sell me ... your watch, please  
I'll buy, I'll buy, I'll buy, I'll buy ...  
I'm highest bidder now_

They’re all trying to stifle giggles by the time the song ends, and while Puck’s sure it was a lovely performance, it was poor luck, or a poor choice, that they chose a song with its own Weird Al parody.

The next song isn’t one Puck recognizes, and when he looks over at Kurt, he can see confusion on his face, and Mercedes’ as well. When he turns back towards Rachel, Finn’s whispering in her ear, and then she turns to him. “Quinn told Brittany that it’s from some guy that looks like Mr. Schue, just came out this summer.”

Puck nods and leans over to relay the message to Kurt, who makes a face and then turns to Mercedes. The song isn’t horrible, per se, but it seems conflicted about what kind of song it wants to be. Pop? Big band? Crooner? Puck isn’t sure, and worse, it seems like the Warblers aren’t sure, either, as they perform.

 _I know time's running out now  
But we'll hold back the sun somehow  
See the sky?  
We've still got tonight  
We've still got tonight_

Puck shakes his head and leans towards Rachel and Finn. “If this is the kind of selections they’re doing, and we’re competing against them at Sectionals, do we even need to practice beforehand?”

Rachel just rolls her eyes and Finn snickers, and Puck sits back before saying essentially the same thing to Kurt, who smirks a little before replying. “Yes, we do, because we want to make them _know_ they got thrashed.”

When the applause starts, though, they stand, headed towards backstage. “Let’s do this thing,” Puck says, then nods at Rachel and Finn. “Kill it, you two.”

“And no–” Mercedes starts, but Puck just turns and shakes his head at her. They get it; the rest of them have all mentioned it enough times. Mercedes gets the message and nods, and no one else says anything either, though Puck’s pretty sure neither Rachel nor Finn notice the fierce glare on Kurt’s face, reinforcing Puck’s prohibition.

The lights go down and Finn and Rachel walk out just as the music starts. Puck knows that with a longer time, he probably could have written the music to suit Rachel’s range just a little better, but they still knock it out of the park, and Puck wonders absently if they should actually pair Finn with Rachel for most choreography, because he’s much more relaxed with her than otherwise.

By the time the girls walk out onto the stage, the other five of them are grinning, because as good as they managed the song at Nationals, they just _killed_ it this time. “Amazing what practice does,” Puck can’t help but muse. “We can’t let Schue let us put off set choices for so long.”

“No, we can’t,” Kurt immediately agrees, and the others nod as the song comes to an end. The music shifts immediately into the introductory portion of “November Rain,” and they head out onto the stage.

The arrangement is a little shorter than the original version of the song, some of the instrumental portions removed or shortened, but there’s still a lot of lyrics and it’s a long song. Thankfully, there’s minimal choreography.

Most of them have one-line solos on the verses, and Puck’s comes in the second verse– _So if you want to love me then darlin' don't refrain_ –and he’s glad he didn’t get one of more melancholy lines. It’s Kurt’s, though, near the end of the song, that makes him smile a little– _So never mind the darkness we still can find a way_.

As the song comes to a close, they slowly make their way off stage, one by one, until they’re holding the final notes with only Artie and Mercedes still on stage. Then the music starts again, and Puck finds himself bouncing on his feet a little as he and Tina wait for their cue and then enter the stage on ‘heart.’

Artie and Mercedes continue singing while the others dance until the end of the chorus, and that’s when it gets really interesting, at least in Puck’s mind–singing and remembering the complex choreography at the same time.

 _So long to devotion, you taught me everything I know_

They line up, and then spin out on the next line.

 _Wave goodbye, wish me well, You've gotta let me go_

Kurt spins into his arms without even looking, as if he knows Puck won’t let him down, and Puck guesses that’s pretty much the truth of it. They all dance to the side and Artie and Finn move to the middle before smoothly flowing out, the next pair taking the spotlight for approximately ten or twenty seconds. Somehow, Kurt and Puck are the last pair, which works well for their purposes.

Tina and Quinn are in the middle when their cue lyric comes up. _And I’m on my knees looking for the answer._

Kurt nods, and Puck does too, and then they’re swirling out into the middle, the choreography seemingly what they practiced, and all Puck can think for a moment is _Oh fuck oh shit don’t let me drop him_ before the music continues on and he has to just do.

 _Are we human_

The music swirls, and when the next line starts– _or are we dancer_ –Puck lifts up, feeling Kurt’s body go taunt, and they spin for a minute before Kurt slides back down and his feet hit the floor without missing a step, grinning widely as they move back to the side to finish the remaining seconds of the song.

Puck had heard the audience gasp, somewhere in the back of his brain, but in the moment of lifting, he was focused enough to tune it out. When the music stops, though, the roar of the audience penetrates, and Kurt grabs his hand, throwing their arms up in the air. “We did it,” Kurt calls out gleefully, and Puck just smirks.

No one says anything until the curtain falls and they’re hidden from the audience, and Mike is the first one to reach them. “Holy shit, you two! You couldn’t have warned us?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Puck asks cheekily.

“ _How_ did you do it, is my question,” Mercedes interjects.

“I have excellent core strength, Puck has strong arms.” Kurt shrugs as if that’s a sufficient explanation, and maybe for Mercedes, it is, because she just nods and then shrugs herself.

“That was _awesome_ , dudes!” Finn grins and then he grabs Kurt and kind of scuffs up his hair a little, laughing when Kurt hisses like an angry kitten and struggles to escape.

“But you two are practically the same height,” Rachel sputters. “Lifts are difficult even when you’re much taller than your partner. I don’t understand how you managed it!”

“Do you want us to show you again?” Puck grins. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure we did manage it.”

“And _thank you_ for realizing we’re nearly the same height, Rachel,” Kurt interjects, having finally extricated himself from Finn’s hold.

“That was killer, guys,” Sam says, and the others all nod.

“If this were a competition, we would’ve nailed it,” Santana says with a shrug.

“So what does this tell us for next time?” Rachel poses the question, clearly switching gears and acting as co-captain.

“Uh, to let Puck and Kurt dance together more?” Finn suggests.

“I meant overall, for our entire set,” Rachel clarifies.

“Can Puck pick up all of us at the same time?” Britt asks. “‘Cause that would be really awesome.”

“Uh, no,” Puck hastens to answer. “I can’t, sorry, Britt.”

“Oh,” she says, disappointed. Then she brightens. “How about just me and Kurt?”

“We’ll try it sometime, Brittany,” Kurt breaks in with a smile. “Clearly, though, to answer Rachel’s question, picking out our songs more than a few days in advance helps.”

“Seriously,” Sam nods. “Finn, Rachel, you two did great in New York, but that was amazing today. Practice isn’t going to kill us. We’d never go out onto the field on a Friday night without practicing during the week.”

“Definitely practice,” Finn agrees. “The songs _and_ the dancing. I think I didn’t totally suck at that for once!”

Mr. Schue comes up to them then. “Guys, wow, that was just amazing! I think that was your best performance yet–and you’ve given some really good ones. Finn, Rachel–great job, and great job sticking to the planned choreography.” He starts to chuckle, but stops when Kurt clears his throat and just _glares_ at him. “Uh, and uh, that arrangement of ‘November Rain’ was phenomenal. Mike, your choreography was just... amazing. So well done, all of you.” He beams at them. “Let’s get out there in the lobby and gloat a little!”

“What’d you think about Puck and Kurt’s lift, Mr. Schue?” Finn asks. “Pretty awesome, huh?”

“That was quite a surprise, you two,” Schue nods, still smiling. “Did none of you know about it?”

“No,” Mike laughs. “But I guess we really shouldn’t be all that surprised.”

“Nope,” Puck agrees. “Any chance to show off my guns.” He flexes his arm slightly, and everyone laughs, Kurt poking him in the side.

They follow Mr. Schue out into the lobby, where Puck can quickly spot all the visiting teams, most of their parents, and the other performers. There’s a short, thin man with a bowler hat, of all things, talking to Coach Beiste, and Puck guesses it’s either the Trojammers or the Liberteens that he’s with.

April comes barrelling over again, then, flinging her arms around both he and Kurt. “Hummel! You didn’t tell me your team did gay dancing! Maybe I should move to Lima.”

“Noo,” Puck answers before he stop himself. “Not that.”

“Shut up, Puck,” April grins at him, then lowers her voice. “Thought you didn’t know me, Puckerman.”

“Then let go of me,” Puck whispers back.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” she says, loudly, as she lets go of Puck. “I just get a little too familiar with people sometimes!” she continues.

“No harm, I’m sure,” Kurt says, bemused. “What did your team say?”

“I believe I heard our new coach mutter ‘Oh shit,’ at one point during your set,” April laughs. “And everyone’s pretty impressed that you guys can consistently write original songs that don’t completely suck.”

“You didn’t hear ‘My Cup,’” Kurt counters her quietly, looking around to make sure Brittany’s not nearby.

“Hey, guys!” Artie’s voice carries over the crowd, and they all turn towards it, pushing through to where Artie is, a short red-head standing next to him. “Mindy, this is everybody. Everybody, Mindy.”

“Hey, Artie’s friends,” Mindy says, her voice a little lower and rougher than Puck expected looking at her. She’s one of those pocket-sized girls with a nose that couldn’t be described as anything but “pug,” with a healthy splash of freckles across it to drive the point home. “So that was pretty cool. I don’t know much about music, but it seemed like you guys _owned_.”

Everyone grins and thanks her, talking on top of each other, before Sam’s voice carries over the group. “Hey, where’d Artie find you?”

She smiles and it makes her nose wrinkle up. “He didn’t tell you? We’ve been training for the Gimp-lympics together! I’m a track supah-stah!” Artie looks up at her adoringly.

Puck nods, more to himself than anything, remembering what Sam had said about a prosthetic leg or something.

“I needed something to keep me busy after quitting football,” Artie explains. “It’s a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, and now I don’t have to walk across the parking lot any more,” Mindy says. “I just holla and he comes and gives me ride in style. Hotwheels!”

“I think Artie found himself the perfect woman,” Kurt mutters in Puck’s ear. Puck just grins and nods his agreement, because it sure does seem that way.

“What is it?” Rachel pokes Puck in the side. “What?”

Puck leans down. “Just that maybe Artie found the perfect woman for himself.”

“Ohhh,” Rachel nods. “Yes, it does seem that way, doesn’t it?”

“She’s cute,” Finn says, putting his arm around Rachel. “Not as cute as you, but cute.”

Rachel beams up at Finn. “You’re so sweet, Finn.” She scans the room. “I almost want to go eavesdrop on the other teams and find out what they’re saying.”

“Or we could ask Mrs. H,” Puck nods towards the concessions, where Carole is clearly listening to everything going on around her.

“Eavesdropping is so much more fun,” Kurt shakes his head, mock sadly. “You should, Rachel.”

“You think so?” Rachel grins a little and slips out from under Finn’s arm. “I’ll be right back.” She disappears into the crowd within seconds.

The group slowly breaks apart after that, greeting friends and family members, and Puck walks over to the concessions, which looks like it’s lost a battle, frankly.

“Hey, Mrs. H. How’d we do?”

“We hardly have anything left!” Carole beams. “I’m going to take the last of these bars and the last drinks over to the door and try to catch people as they leave.”

“Awesome.”

“You boys were terrific,” Carole continues. “All three of you!” She picks up a basket and a cooler and heads for the door. “It’s so wonderful to have such talent in the family.” She lets her grin widen over her shoulder and then turns towards the crowd, and Puck can’t help but grin, too.

Slowly, the audience leaves, and the other performing teams head towards their green rooms to collect their things and change out of their costumes. Naturally, this means that the Warblers are the first to leave, since the concept of a costume other than their uniform hasn’t appeared to occur to them. Ever.

A couple of them who aren’t Trey or Blaine stop and say something to Kurt, who appears to be happy enough to talk to them, smiling a little and nodding, but when they drop back into the group, Kurt shoots Blaine a glare, and after they’ve left and the others are distracted by the Jane Addams girls leaving, Puck slides up beside Kurt.

“So what did Blaine Warbler do to piss you off?”

Kurt purses his lips and then smiles wryly. “You can read me too well.”

“That implies it’s a bad thing. Seriously, K.”

“He just...” Kurt rolls his eyes a little. “I get it, okay? I get now why you get so pissed off when someone starts talking about me. He said something about you, and I just...” Kurt shrugs.

“About me?” Puck furrows his forehead.

“All up in my face about you being a ‘closet case’ and he was just so damn _catty_ and I...ugh!” Kurt throws up his hands. “Sorry. I guess it wasn’t really that bad, but.”

“What do I keep telling you?” Puck grins a little. “Be _good_.”

“I _am_ good! Always!”

Puck just chuckles as they walk over to where Mr. Schue is gathering everyone.

“Janitorial staff will take care of most of the clean-up, but we need to empty out the choir room and then everyone needs to reclaim their dishes and things. Puck, I’ll let you keep these under lock and key and report back to us a total on Monday.” Schue hands over both cashboxes at that, and Puck just nods. “Great job, everyone!”

It takes longer Puck expects for everyone to change out of their costumes–well, almost everyone; Santana and Brittany both leave theirs on, but none of the guys do–and then gather all their things from the choir room. When they reach the lobby again, it’s surprisingly empty. When they reach the Nav, Kurt checks his phone. “Dad says to meet them for dinner at Old Barn Out Back, their treat.”

“Cool. I am starving.” He grins. “We did good, blue eyes.”

“Yes, we did.” Kurt’s grin matches his, and he reaches across to take Puck’s hand. “We did amazing. All of us, but especially you and I.” He smirks. “God, we surprised them.”

“Hell, yeah.” Puck smirks too. “Think we can get the rest of them to do like Finn said? Have us dance together more often?”

Kurt laughs. “Only if Mr. Schue isn’t choreographing.”

“Even though it seems counter-intuitive on some level, I think Finn needs to be paired with Rachel more, not less. He did better up there during ‘Pretending’ than I’ve ever seen.”

“I agree.” Kurt nods. “Mainly, we just didn’t wait until the last possible moment. Watch–Mr. Schue will tell us all to wait until mid-November at least to worry about Sectionals.”

“We can’t do that. Not if we want to get to Nationals without any worry.”

“No, we can’t.” Kurt sighs. “I’ll talk to Finn. If we have to, we’ll do it like we did ‘Human’–without Schue’s input.”

 

Dinner is relaxed and enjoyable; Carole and Burt had invited Rachel, too, but she insisted on going home to spend the remainder of Yom Kippur with her dads. Puck thinks that he probably should have done the same, but after the long day, he wants to stay with Kurt, and even if they’re in public and he has his hands in his pockets, at least they’re with people who know and accept them.

Kurt kisses him one final time in the growing darkness as they pull up in front of Puck’s apartment building, and, arms full, Puck heads upstairs. He drops the slow cooker in the kitchen before calling out to his mom and sister. “I’m home!”

Hannah comes running into the living room. “Did you do good? Was it lots of fun? Did you see Rebecca, she was going to go!”

“No, I didn’t see Rebecca,” Puck grins. “And we did awesome. Lots of fun.” He holds out his fist and Hannah bumps it expertly. “Where’s Mom?”

“Laundry.” Hannah makes a face.

“Okay.” Puck heads towards his room, intent on changing and then maybe going to bed, even though it’s lame to go to bed so early. When he rounds the corner, however, he stops short.

Rina is clearly putting up laundry, as Hannah said, judging by the stack of clean clothes on Puck’s bed. She’s not holding laundry, however; she’s holding a bottle. A bottle that Puck and Kurt, in their hurry that morning, left on the bedside table, not in a drawer. _Oh fuck._ Puck drops his bag with the cashboxes in it onto the floor, loudly.

Rina wheels around, bottle still in hand, mouth agape. When she sees Puck, she gasps. She looks at Puck, then the bottle in her hand, then Puck, then the bottle. “Noah! I...” she begins, and then looks back at Puck and then the bottle.

Puck’s mouth is hanging open as he stares, horrified, at the scene in front of him. “Mom! Put that down!”

“It was on your nightstand!” Rina squeaks, dropping the bottle. “I knocked it over accidentally when I brought the basket of laundry in!” She’s still holding her hand out in front of her as if completely unsure as to what she should do with it.

The first thing that comes to Puck’s mind is “We didn’t mean to leave it out!” and it’s unfortunate that today is the day he decides to act like Finn, because that’s exactly what comes out of his mouth, much to his own chagrin.

Rina’s eyes, already wide, get even larger. Her eyebrows shoot up until they nearly touch her hairline and she looks down at her hand in horror. “That...it...you and Kurt...I should go wash up.” She bolts out of Puck’s room and he can hear the sound of running water and frantic scrubbing coming from the bathroom. It continues for several minutes.

Puck scoops the bottle up while she’s out of the room, depositing it in the drawer, and picks up his bag from where he dropped it, then lands on the bed, head in his hands, fully expecting his mom to walk back in at any moment. Well, any moment after the water stops, if it ever does.

Rina finally turns off the water and after a few more minutes of rustling in the bathroom, appears in Puck’s doorway. “Noah,” she begins, her face pale and her voice tentative. “Should...we....maybe have a talk?” She doesn’t really look like she wants to have a talk. She looks like she might want to go take the large container of bleach she pulls out once a year to scour the kitchen and use it to soak her hands for a while. And maybe her eyes. And her brain.

“Uh.” Puck stalls, his eyes darting everywhere but directly at his mom, and tries to figure out what the right answer is. “If... you want?” he finally hazards.

“Are you and Kurt?” is about all she can muster. She appears to brace herself for the likely answer.

“Um.” Puck jerks his head in an approximation of a nod. Rina winces.

“Are you being...careful?”

The first answer that springs to Puck’s mind has nothing to do with what his mom probably means, and by ‘careful’ she probably means ‘condoms,’ which, no, then, they aren’t, but they’re ‘careful’ by _their_ definition, so he nods again, determinedly staring at a spot on the wall.

“I suppose I should have guessed,” Rina finally muses. “I mean, you boys do seem to...what I mean is that you both are just...oh for heaven’s sake, Noah, I have no idea what I mean.”

“Uh. Sorry?” Puck offers. Not that he’s sorry about anything but leaving the stupid bottle out, but damn, he’s _really_ sorry about that.

“Does Burt know?” Rina asks, though the answer to that should probably be obvious.

Puck shakes his head no, moving it fast from side to side. “Don’t think so, anyway,” he mutters.

“Well,” Rina huffs. “My goodness. You boys, I swear.”

Puck just shifts uncomfortably on the bed. “S’not...” He trails off after that, not sure exactly what he was going to say.

“I suppose you’re past the age where I can really give you a lecture about this,” Rina sighs. “Just, I had hoped, now that you were gay, that you might...”

And that makes Puck a little mad, because one, it’s not like he just flipped a switch one day. He _knows_ that now, knows he was gay from the beginning and everything else was just him trying to suppress it, over and over. And two, it’s not like being gay comes with some set of personality characteristics. “Might what?” he challenges her.

“Might wait until you were, I don’t know, 45 or so before you got so serious with someone,” Rina jokes.

“Mooommm,” Puck groans and rolls his eyes, but he’s relieved that they’ve apparently reached the joking portion of the conversation.

“What? A mother can’t hope for more time with her son before she loses him to another man?” Rina says, laying it on thick. “Several of the mothers in the group Carole found for me still have older sons living at home. I thought, oh how nice, these boys who want to stay close to their mothers.”

Puck just stares at her incredulously. “No offense, Mom, but these guys sound lame. And _what_ group?”

“It’s a group for Jewish parents with gay children,” Rina explains, proud of herself. “Carole looked it up for me and gave me the, what do you call it, the Internet address. They have chats and those message board things.”

“That’s... nice?” Puck answers weakly, imagining a (virtual) room full of Jewish mothers, trading tips on how to guilt their children into doing something or another. Then he narrows his eyes at his mom, a thought suddenly coming to him. “It’s... you’re not, like, upset that Kurt’s not Jewish, are you? ‘Cause.”

Rina blushes a little. “Well, of course I would love to have my grandchildren raised in the faith, Noah. You can’t blame me for that. But that’s not really what this group is about. Yes, some of us are dealing with our children and non-Jewish partners, but we talk about all kinds of things. Silly things, sometimes, like how you have a proper Jewish wedding with two grooms!”

And in the course of a few sentences, his mom’s managed to bring up weddings _and_ grandchildren. Impressive, Puck thinks, even for a Jewish mother. He settles for nodding. “Right. Well. That’s good?”

“Of course it is,” Rina assures him. “Just...” her eyes dart nervously back to the floor where she had dropped the (thankfully put away now) bottle. “Be careful, and...don’t leave... _things_ around where your sister can see them? Please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Puck nods, agreeing, because they _have_ been careful, most of the time, about keeping things appropriate where Hannah’s concerned. “We, uh. Just got in a hurry,” he mutters, examining the floor.

“Noah!” Rina exclaims. “I appreciate the openness, but please, no details, son!”

“Sorry! Sorry.” Puck chews on his lip for a second. “Just, uh. You know. It won’t happen again.”

“Well, I suppose that’s all I can ask for,” she sighs. “You boys,” she repeats. “I swear. Such boys.” She walks away from the doorway, then, leaving Puck alone with his thoughts. He strips, as he had intended to do, flips out the light, and crawls into bed, holding his phone.

He’s already ready to text when his eyes widen and he sits up in bed. Carole. His mom said Carole found that online group thing, which means that they’ve been talking.

Which means that they might be talking again soon.

Shit.

Puck sighs and falls back onto his pillow.

 _Meet me @ Sbux tom instead of here?_

 _Sure. Why? What’s up?_

 _Tell you tom. We did good blue eyes xx_

 _Yeah we did baby. See you tomorrow afternoon. xx_


End file.
